Brave New Life
by ficdirectory
Summary: High School AU. 8 high school students connect over the course of the 1998-1999 school year. WARNINGS: Eating disorder, physical abuse, implied self-harm, implied sexual abuse, mentions suicide & abortion. **Nominated: Best Alternate Universe in the 2011 Criminal Minds Favorite Fic Awards at LiveJournal**
1. September 30, 1998

Sean is not Aaron's son. But the truth is, he might as well be. For all the time his mother works, and all the hours, days and weeks his father is hospitalized. When his mother isn't at work, she is with his father. Not at home with him, or more importantly, with his two-year-old little brother.

Aaron is seventeen. He has done everything right. He hasn't had relations with anyone, because who has time? Because if he ever got a girl pregnant his father would kill him. His mother would die of embarrassment. Because practically raising his baby brother all by himself has given Aaron enough of a glimpse into parenthood. He knows he is nowhere near ready to be a father, but that doesn't seem to matter. Like it or not, he is one.

Today, he got up at five o'clock in the morning, and stretched out the kink in his back from sleeping on Sean's bedroom floor. It's out of habit, since their father - even as his health began to decline - had a streak of anger in him that Aaron knew to avoid. Since his mother did nothing to protect _him_, he knew better than to think she might have any maternal instinct for this new child.

Aaron got himself ready, and then dressed Sean, who was still asleep, and tried to wake him long enough to feed him something. School begins at 7:30 and the warning bell rings at 7:25. He never feels like he has adequate time to do all that he needs before he has to leave. The house is a disaster, but it will have to do. It's not as if his father will see it.

Back in Virginia, that would not have stood, but things are different here. In the Midwest, people are friendlier. They are concerned with appearance but in a different way. Most of the girls he sees are unnaturally tan and have hair so color-treated it looks white, not the blonde they are hoping for. The one exception is Haley, his on-again-off-again girlfriend. After he met her, Aaron added Drama Club to his expanding list of activities.

He drives to school, grateful for his persuasive skills. It had not taken long at all to talk the staff of the childcare center on campus into allowing him to let Sean stay there each day while Aaron attends classes. Technically, Aaron knows, it is there for the teenage mothers, who desire to stay in school after having children. It costs money, but money has never been an issue for Aaron. Three weeks into school, he is familiar with the three teenage mothers who drop their infants off. The babies, Sean calls them. Because of Sean, he knows them by name.

Cora is the girl, maybe six months old, with blue eyes and pierced ears. Eric is around the same age, but bald and more serious-looking. Thomas is Aaron's favorite. He is chubby, and has a complexion that reminds him of this kid, Derek, who he goes to church with. Thomas is chubby and happy. He can always make Aaron smile, even if there is nothing to smile about.

"All right. You are good, and I'll be back in a while."

Aaron is stunned when Sean nearly chokes him in an exuberant hug. When his cheek is slimed with a kiss.

"Bye bye, Aaron!"

He turns to leave, not looking back, ashamed that even now, he could want his own life.

* * *

><p>Penelope groans and rolls over, groping blindly for her glasses. When she sees the red numbers on her alarm clock read 7:22, she is awake, like that. It's her own fault for staying up late watching that <em>Buffy<em> marathon last night. Buffy's badass and if Penelope were a vampire-chick, that's exactly who she would be. But eight minutes to get ready for school? It would be a new record.

Like a whirlwind, she gathers whatever's the closest and throws it on. There is a long white dress that the new girl Emily calls her peasant dress, but in Italian, which makes it much cooler. Penelope loves the hell out of her peasant dress. It's so spacious and flowing. Oops and there's the purple crocheted shawl. In a flash, she has donned rainbow toe-socks and kitten ears that she can't wait to wear for another month, on Halloween. Finally, she mists herself liberally with apple-scented body spray and thunders down the stairs.

The house is empty. Of course it is. Her parents actually know how to rise with an alarm clock. A month into Penelope's senior year, and she still hasn't learned. Like a whirlwind, Penelope grabs whatever she can reach, that will pass for breakfast: Carnation Instant Breakfast, an orange, and a slice of leftover cake. She'll eat on the way, if she can manage. She scribbles a note to her parents since this will be one of her long days, and flies out of the house.

She starts her 1983 Datsun and speeds to the high school, parking by the choir doors, and ekes in just in the nick of time to call out her attendance number. In a class with 80 people, it's apparently necessary to number them like toddler-aged higher order multiples, to be sure none of them are lost, forgotten, or late.

"19!" she calls out, and she hears snickers.

"I'll mark you off as here," says a familiar, and not at all teacherly voice from the front of the room. Penelope registers it belatedly as their recently elected president of concert choir, the preppy Aaron Hotchner, a junior, who was so well read and proper, he could probably run for office and do a better job than Clinton with all his skeevy activities.

"Hotch, come on, man… I'm dyin' of boredom. Is everybody here?"

Penelope rolls her eyes at David, a fellow senior, who runs pretty wild, and is only calm and semi-normal in cooking class, where he is better than the teacher at every recipe.

Penelope collapses in a chair beside Emily, and breathes a sigh of relief.

* * *

><p>Just Emily's luck that she is sitting beside her is the only person who insists on calling her <em>Emiliana<em> - the Italian form of her name. Penelope, of course, is dressed _dei contadini_, and is overwhelming Emily in an apple-perfume cloud.

Her name, Penelope had offered - though Emily had not asked - came from Homer's Odyssey. The name of the wife of Odysseus, who was forced to fend off suitors while her husband was away, fighting at Troy. Emily hadn't looked her direction. Had not nodded. Had not even blinked. And she certainly had not told Penelope that she was perfectly aware of all the characters in Homer's Odyssey or that Penelope held no resemblance whatsoever to the wife.

Today, she leans in close, so Emily can get the full benefit of Penelope's orchard aroma, and says, "By the way, I looked it up, and your name? It means _rival_. Is that how you see yourself or how you want us to see you?" Penelope enquires gently. "Is that why you're going gothic?" she asks innocently, fingering the sleeve of Emily's black, lacy top.

Emily tries to speak as little as possible, first because she doesn't want to, and secondly, because she does not want people to notice the faintest traces of an Italian accent that colors her speech. Apparently, here in Minnesota, her speech stands out even more than she thinks it does. She tries not to offer comment, and only opens her mouth when it is demanded by a teacher, but sometimes, Penelope has a way of pulling out information she has never meant to volunteer. She blames the apple fragrance. There hadn't been such a thing in Italy. It makes her feel at home.

"It isn't gothic. It's an Eastern Orthodox mourning custom. A person wears black for forty days," Emily responds quietly.

Penelope's face falls, as the voices of the singers rise around them. Emily finds herself so grateful that Penelope's next question is: "Are you Eastern Orthodox?" and not "Are you mourning?"

She is not ready to speak of it.

She is not sure she will ever be ready.

* * *

><p>David is trying his damndest to make soap, but it takes too many steps and his brain isn't wired that way. He watches the twelve-year-old genius sitting, bored, at his station. He's stirring a bright orange liquid that should be soap soon. No one is helping him. No one <em>needs<em> to help him. But David, _he_ could use some help. Still, he won't talk to this kid if he can help it.

David glances out of the corner of his eye and sees the teacher giving him a look. It's not beyond him that his three lab partners are doing this experiment by themselves and he isn't helping in the least. Attempting to at least look busy, Dave leans over his lab sheet and pretends to write down numbers and chemical reactions.

Instead, he is alternating. He is writing down a list of things he loves about Strauss - he has to call her by a last name, it's too confusing to have a buddy named Aaron and a future girlfriend named Erin - and concocting a recipe based on the omelet he learned in cooking class. The four-egg chili cheese hot dog omelet. A lot more adventurous than the ham and cheese they attempted. David has the feeling that it will be the best one he's made so far.

He sees Hotch later in the hall, and asks how he is, just to be nice. David's gang of hell-raisers is nowhere to be seen, so he risks it.

"Hey, Hotch. How are ya?"

"Fine. You?" Hotch eyes him suspiciously.

"Sober," Dave says, mostly for the reaction, but partly because it's true. It had been tempting to add a little something to the water bottle he brought to choir this morning.

"Good! It's 10:30 in the morning!" Hotch smiles, and it's such a rare thing that Dave takes a step away, as his friend pats him on the back. "See if you can stay that way tonight. You want to keep Strauss on her toes, you want a clear head. It's no fun if you can't remember it the next day."

Nodding, David takes the encouragement. "Bringin' the little man tonight?" he asks. Dave's gotten used to seeing Hotch's baby brother at church on Wednesday nights. He's fun to hang out with. Makes listening to church crap much better, if you asked him.

"Always," Hotch says ruefully, and just like that, the smile disappears.

* * *

><p>Ashley sits alone in the cafeteria. She doesn't really fit in anywhere, especially in a place that seems categorized by what people choose to put in their bodies. She is what happens when someone chooses not to put anything in her body. It makes sense that she would sit alone.<p>

She guesses she could sit with any of the kids from church. Little Spencer is isolated on his own island at the end of a table, with a mountain of French fries with seasoned salt and a chocolate malt. He eats with his arm around the basket and the other hand clutching his cup. She is a fourteen-year-old freshman, and knows what it's like to be tormented. Hadn't she just gotten diapers thrown at her in the pep rally the first Friday? And thank God for Penelope giving her a crash course in the school song, and when the freshies were supposed to sing it. Ashley could not imagine being a twelve-year-old senior.

Derek walks by and shocks Ashley by taking a seat across from Spencer. She wonders if she is the only one who sees him jump. Scanning the large room, she notices Jennifer's blonde ponytail. She stands in a group of kids, laughing and talking. Ashley envies Jennifer more than anyone ever. She is an athlete but is strong. The only sophomore on the varsity soccer team. She doesn't have to worry about what she eats, or having a pesky little brother. She's an only child. Ashley wishes she could have that freedom and not feel like she constantly has to protect her younger brother from…well…everything.

The clawing, desperate hunger is back, and Ashley fights to ignore it. She imagines nailing her bars routine - the one that has been giving her so much trouble. She imagines her family coming to watch her compete. She imagines her dad coming to something and not being drunk.

She imagines her life the way she wishes it could be.

* * *

><p>Spencer's favorite thing about high school is definitely choosing what he gets to eat. Luckily, his mom has professor-friends who check in with him and put money in his lunch account when he needs it. That means he gets to eat as many baskets of French fries with seasoned salt and chocolate malts as he wants.<p>

He has to talk to someone about switching out of that Chemistry class. He had wanted his soap to have a natural appearance. He had chosen not to dye it an obscene color, but his group of seventeen-year-old Neanderthals had chosen fiery orange. Spencer definitely isn't planning to take that home. It smells like crayons.

"Hey, Spencer," a voice says, and he jumps, expecting the worst.

But it's just Derek. Derek is like an older brother to Spencer. Even though he's only a sophomore, chronologically, Derek is three years older, and that means he is wiser in several areas. Social situations, sports, and what deodorant to use, when Spencer - for all his apparent intelligence - hadn't realized he needed to start wearing it.

"Hey," Spencer returns, chugging his malt. It is completely worth the gut-twisting stomachache the lactose induces every single day. Spencer can't live without his chocolate malt. "I need to transfer out of Chemistry. It's unchallenging, uninteresting, and not to mention it's _not _what I signed up for. I need Geography, Statistics and Probability, _something_…" he insists, not really speaking to Derek, but Derek answers him anyway, taking a long drink of Surge, the Mountain Dew like rip off that Spencer secretly calls Sludge because of its revolting color.

"So, transfer, then," Derek answers, like it's simple. He takes a bite of pizza.

Spencer contemplates how to tell him that no matter how intelligent people tell him he is, sometimes, Spencer is certain that they are lying to make him feel good. Maybe, they just mean, smart for his age. For all his apparent knowledge, he cannot retain the simplest common sense when it comes to tasks like transferring out of a class. "I…don't know how…" he admits quietly.

"Hey, guys. What don't you know?" JJ wonders, joining them. Spencer glares at her. She hasn't been invited into this conversation.

"He's confused about how to transfer out of Chemistry," Derek fills in. "Don't worry, kid, I'd want to transfer out, too."

It makes Spencer's cheeks color, the way they point out his stupidity.

"I'll totally help you out, but we have to figure out how to get past her," Derek gestures to the woman whose sole job is to keep the students corralled at the top of the ramp leading to the rest of the school until the allotted time arrives.

"Oh, I can help," JJ volunteers.

Spencer averts his eyes, even though JJ is wearing a striped turtleneck sweater and khaki pants. Some things, he just can't stare at directly, or they will have damaging consequences. And for him, JJ is like the sun.

Before he knows what is happening, Derek has hauled him to his feet and is motioning that they follow JJ. He can hear her clearly now, and finds himself impressed and horrified at how deftly the lie slides off her tongue.

"Mrs. Anderson? Spencer's got to go to the nurse. Is that okay?" JJ asks, her tone all sympathetic apology at breaking the rules. "Derek can take him."

Mrs. Anderson spares a look at Spencer, and he figures it is lucky he doesn't look ill on his best day. Pasty white from staying indoors, and trying to coax his mother out of bed, or spending hours convincing her that famous singers were not actually watching them, or writing songs about their lives. It's days like those when Spencer wishes his dad had stayed around and not left them two years ago. Two years, one month, 6 days… He can go on. It's branded into his memory even though he wants it to go away.

As promised, Derek walks Spencer to the office that services students with last names at the end of the alphabet. The section of school denoted by its putrid choice of locker colors. Cantaloupe. Spencer wishes he had a locker in the green section like Derek and JJ.

"See? What you gotta do is, talk to Miss Lisa. She's the best secretary," Derek tells him, "So you're lucky."

Spencer opens his mouth to respond but gets cut short by Derek who says "Hey, Miss Lisa. This is Spencer and he's looking to transfer out a class that's…what did you say it was…'unchallenging and uninteresting?'"

"Sure. Come on in, Spencer. I think the guidance counselor is free. We'll get this taken care of for you." The secretary, Miss Lisa, smiles and this whole day reminds Spencer that there are good people in the world. People who care about what happens to him, even when his mom can't.

"Thanks, Derek."

"See you tonight," Derek calls back. "Page Aaron if you need a ride. He'll network for you, and someone can pick you up."

* * *

><p>JJ chugs her lemon-lime Gatorade, knowing she will probably regret it, but not really caring. School until 2:30. Soccer from 3:00-5:30 and she has to be to church by 7:00. Homework will probably have to wait, but it always does, and it's not like JJ's smart anyway. She'll have to work her butt off to keep her GPA high enough to stay on the team.<p>

She has to catch a ride with somebody but isn't sure who. Most likely, she'll end up walking there with Derek, despite being physically ready to drop. The youth pastor, Erin Strauss, always gives Spencer a ride. Though she wouldn't mind riding with Spencer, riding with the youth pastor isn't JJ's idea of fun. Mostly because she knows she'll get those pitying looks and it will be enough to make JJ want to kill her, and that's not very Christian.

It might not have been so bad except that JJ has grown up here. They have known her since she was a toddler, and her older sister, Janet, was a nine-year-old hellion. Everyone had watched as Jan had gone down the wrong path, done all the wrong things. When she got pregnant five years ago, JJ heard them whisper they knew it was coming. When Janet killed herself the following year, leaving her three-month-old daughter, Kaya, JJ wondered. Had they seen _this _coming, too?

Her parents hadn't taken the baby. They had been too lost in their own grief. Instead, they gave it to a family in church. A family who changed the baby's name to Rachel and didn't tell her that JJ was her aunt. Looking at her was like looking at pictures of Janet at the same age. The blonde hair. The blue eyes. The crooked smile. JJ suffered through services, forcing herself not to turn around and stare at her four-year-old niece.

She is grateful it's Wednesday, not Sunday. She is grateful that none of her friends in the youth group attended here back when Janet died. She is grateful they don't know Kaya is related to her. A couple times, JJ has wanted to tell Derek, but then she chickened out.

Now, all she wants is Chinese. There's nothing like living off fruit and Gatorade at soccer practice to really make her want to eat some Chinese food.

"God, I want LeAnn Chinn's!" JJ whines.

"It's 6:45. We'd have to get Dave or Hotch or somebody to drive us…and there's no way we'd get there and back in time."

"Ugh," she groans. "I just want an egg roll. _One_ egg roll. That's not bad, right? I bet that football coach had you running 'til you puked again. Come on. Tell me you don't want to come with me. I can tell if you're lying…"

"JJ, of course I wanna eat, but there ain't time!" Derek laughs. "Come on. We'll just go out after. We'll ask the rest if they want to come, too."

"Ugh… Fine…I'll pretend I'm fasting or something…" JJ concedes. She is distracted by the sound of a child's voice, and whips around, expecting Janet. Always, expecting Janet, even now.

Instead, she sees Aaron coming, lugging his little brother on his hip.

"Hi, JJ! I got McDonald's, see? And a toy that gots Mulan on it! She's a fighter like this!" Sean proceeds to make noisy sound effects.

"Yeah, I liked that movie. Did you?" JJ asked, keeping him occupied, and wishing she could keep Aaron away from the youth pastor, who thinks that Aaron did the wild as a freshman and had Sean as a result.

"I like Mushu," Sean says, smiling. JJ can see ketchup smeared around his mouth, and some food he's still chewing, stored in one cheek.

The mention of the animated Chinese dragon conjures images of Moo Shu pork, even though JJ is partial to sweet and sour chicken. She can't help but feel insanely jealous, until a small miracle happens. Emily the really quiet new girl from Italy, walks by and presses something into her hand. She is exactly the type of friend her mom doesn't want JJ having. She has a pierced nose and tongue, and she wears black every day. She barely speaks, except to Penelope, but that's because no one can resist talking to Penelope.

Glancing down, JJ sees half a roll covered in what looks like peach jam. Not exactly LeAnn Chinn's, but it looks so good.

"Hey, thank you…" JJ says, trailing off.

Because, like a ghost, Emily has disappeared.

* * *

><p>Strauss is late and Derek imagines it might become a habit since she has nominated herself to give Spencer rides every day. Lucky for him, he and JJ live within walking distance. It gives them a chance to talk - or not talk - depending on what kind of day it was. He's hot and sweaty, still in a tee shirt and sweats, but coming with JJ who is fresh from soccer practice while he is fresh from football, makes him feel like he fits, somehow.<p>

Penelope walks by him in some kind of strange get-up. It works on her, though. She smiles and whispers something in his ear that makes him blush. Funny, though, it doesn't put him off. Probably because it's in French, but Derek knows something dirty when he hears it. From Penelope, though, the words mean friendship and humor, not what they might mean coming from someone else. He is a pretty spiritual guy and she knows it. Thankfully, she also respects it.

"Hey, we're headed out to Leann Chinn's after this. You wanna come?" Derek asks.

"Derek Morgan, I wouldn't miss an extra chance to hang out with you for the world." Penelope grins.

"JJ's comin', too. Spread the word, okay?"

"Ah, _ma petite amie_!" Penelope exclaims, grabbing JJ around the waist and trying to get a bite of whatever she's eating.

JJ laughs, fighting her off half-heartedly, and then puts what's left of the snack into Penelope's mouth, patting it, to be sure everything makes it in.

"Okay, everybody! Let's get started!"

Strauss. Finally. "This is going to be a great year. We've got the trip to Chicago coming up in March, so I want to have a quick meeting with the Chicago team afterward. Let's pray."

Derek is pretty sure no one else remembers the trip Strauss talked about last year before the summer. The one to Chicago. But Derek can't stop thinking about it. He's from Chicago. His daddy's buried there. If things had gone differently, maybe, Derek and his family would have ended up relying on the goodness of people to survive.

He wants to go. He wants to get the hell out of here. And he is scared to death at what he might find when they arrive.

The end of March can't come fast enough.

Derek looks around, wincing slightly as he shifts from foot to foot. JJ, Hotch, David, Emily, Penelope, Spencer, Ashley and himself are on Strauss's list for the trip. He walks forward as the music starts and separates himself, standing in a corner. He thinks of the trip. The soup kitchen. The homeless shelters. The street ministering.

Six months away.

So much to do. So much to take.

He closes his eyes and bows his head.


	2. October 31, 1998

It's Halloween, and Penelope can't stand the stupid headband with cat ears. The thing is, she can't summon the energy to get out of bed and throw it or destroy it. She doesn't have the energy. She is too tired. She needs the dark. She needs to disappear, like her parents, but she can't make herself do it.

September 30th, 1998. The day her whole world changed. She remembers being at church and whispering some dirty French to Derek. She remembers the praise songs they sang and the small groups they broke into. She made sure Emily was included, and that she not only participated in the discussions but also that she got to play the games.

Then, she drove home to find a police car in her driveway. The cop got out and told her he was so sorry… There was an accident… The other driver was intoxicated… Her parents… The hospital morgue… Could she come and make an identification?

The last person she had expected to find was Ashley, weeping like a crazy person in the waiting room. _That should be me_, Penelope remembers thinking. But it wasn't.

"What are you doing here?" she had asked, breathless, and feeling like she had major ADD because she was unable to keep simple information in her head, or form cohesive thoughts. Was she supposed to bring clothes here? Or was that later? Who would make arrangements? Who would come? Her family was in California. Should she tell her dad, the biggest loser on the planet? Would he care?

Penelope had watched as Ashley got ghostly pale, and looked like she might pass out. On instinct, she had reached out a hand to steady the younger girl. She looks thin. Too thin. Penelope can feel her collarbones protruding unnaturally.

"My dad…he was in a car accident tonight on 252… It was bad. The other people…"

Just like that, Penelope released Ashley, letting her sway and hoping she fell. Because just like that, she knew.

"Your dad was the drunk driver? ..Your dad killed my parents."

"I'm so sorry, Penelope. I tried to stop him, I swear I did!" Ashley sobbed.

"I have to go…" she said, feeling numb. Feeling hollow.

Down in the basement of the hospital, she had gone through the motions. She had held her breath as the white sheets were pulled back to reveal her parents.

She mumbled some kind of confirmation and then darted outside where she was sick in the parking lot. A nurse had seen her hasty exodus and asked if there was anyone she could call, but Penelope couldn't form words. She couldn't say that no, everyone who mattered was no longer here.

She thought of Emily, but Em was only fifteen, and couldn't drive alone to pick her up. Penelope hadn't thought she could handle the sight of another living person in a car. So, instead, she begged for seventy-five cents, and stuck them in the pay phone. Instead of calling her best friend, Penelope had called David at the local auto repair shop.

He had showed up like the unlikeliest of heroes - all grease and blue coveralls and leather - smoking a cigarette and driving his hog. A motorcycle was as far from her parents' cherished VW Bug as she could get.

Dave had said nothing, just lifted his own helmet off and offered it to her. His eyes were like deep pools of sadness. It was a look Penelope had so rarely seen in them that it had caused her to pause. Somehow, he must have known. Yet somehow, he managed not to ask the questions that would tear her heart to shreds:

"What happened?"

"Are you okay?"

"How is Ashley?"

She had just hopped on the back of the bike and held onto his black leather jacket - vomitous dress and all. He drove cautiously - she could sense it - slowing at every yellow light. He got her home safely, and waited until she got inside to drive away.

It was then that she had seen the note she had scribbled that morning. The one that read, _Bye. Love you. _It had fallen from the table and landed face down on the kitchen floor. Penelope had picked it up, weeping, wondering, "Did they see this?"

The funeral and all its pieces are a blur. She cannot bring any of it to mind. Not her lovely parents being but into boxes like the good china. Not what flowers were picked or the songs that were done. Not what Scriptures were read, or how many people might have come forward, or if there was an altar call of any kind.

She remembers Ashley, standing just inside the doors, timid. Shaking. Penelope remembers going after her with a vengeance she had not even known she possessed. It had taken many people - among them Emily and Derek - to hold her back. But they could not hold back the angry words that Penelope spit in her direction.

"How dare you?" she remembers screaming. She remembers cursing and not caring, and fighting to be let go. Ashley's dad was not there to blame. He was in jail. There was no one to blame.

And now? There is just a darkness so thick and cloying that no matter how she tries, Penelope cannot claw her way out. She has stayed in bed, in the same clothes for God-knows how many days.

Her phone rings, and she picks it up. She just listens.

* * *

><p>Emily has spent the evening turning away little children at her mother's insistence. She has no religious reasons for this, but moral ones.<p>

"It's a disrespectful holiday based on a rude premise that if you knock on a stranger's door they should automatically cede to your desires. It teaches children nothing except to be entitled and spoiled." She takes Emily's chin. "I raised you better than that, remember."

"Yes, mother," Emily replies.

But then, the doorbell rings and there is a tiny kitten-child, no bigger than a toddler. She holds her cloth shopping bag like a purse, and it nearly drags on the cement under her kitten paws.

Emily slips outside, soundlessly, finger to her lips - shushing the child's mother.

"Aren't you pretty?" Emily says gently noting the tiny kitten whiskers drawn on the face of the child.

"Candy?" the child practically purrs. Belatedly, Emily notices the blonde curls. The cat ears. And she thinks of her friend, alone like the soldier's wife she was named for.

"Here you go, darling." Emily says, offering the only thing she has in her pockets that might pass as a treat. A single pinwheel mint. "Be careful. She might choke." The words are out of Emily's mouth before she can stop them. A maternal instinct she can never quite quench.

Inside again, with her mother none the wiser, Emily retreats to her room - spacious and bare. She picks up the telephone - feeling relieved to have a line all to herself - and dials Penelope.

"Hey… Are you there?" she asks gently. "My mother's given me strict orders to send away all the Trick-or-Treaters. But I saw a little girl, who looked like you, dressed like a cat and I thought, 'I'd better give this kid something.' Karma, right?" she asks, trying to smile, but Penelope only listens. "I'll try to come by soon. Maybe tonight? Is your bedroom window still unlocked?"

She takes the silence affirmatively.

"All right. I'll be there. When you here the tapping, don't be scared. It's just a fellow corner-dweller. We'll keep each other company."

* * *

><p>David is tired of Saturday school. It's a higher level of detention for the special cases like him, who have a hard time getting consequences through their thick heads. It's not enough that he's the only nineteen-year-old senior in the class of '99; he has to deal with smart kids like Spencer who make everything look so damn easy.<p>

He had needed to haul his ass out of bed at 8:00 to put in his time until 12:00 noon. All this for innocently wanting to celebrate by mixing up a batch of his special Halloween Brew - spiked Italian coffee.

Lucky for him, the holiday really doesn't start until the evening hours anyway, so the punishment doesn't bother him as much as it could. He has plans to pass out his beverage of choice to his buddies and then go out and scare little kids into abandoning their candy.

The thought of Penelope stops him short. He has never told her his parents heard about the accident on the scanner. He'd stolen it on a dare from Radio Shack. It had come in handy, knowing all the places to avoid. Places with heavy police presence, especially since his dad was a cop. Just happened that he had heard the call as he was on his way out the door, to head to work. It had sounded bad, but Dave hadn't really counted on driving by it on his bike. The little yellow bug, smashed in, with smoke billowing from the hood. The people screaming inside. The drunk SOB on the side of the road ranting about how they should be sued for driving an outdated car.

He had tried to help. He hadn't known the people inside were Penelope's parents, until he had gotten close enough to see the California plates on the car. They were the only parents in the area with a yellow VW Bug with California plates. Dave recognized it because there had been a time when his boys wanted to steal it. But Dave drew the line at stealing from friends.

"I'm a friend of Penelope's!" he called, jerking the handle of the car, just before it lit up like a Christmas tree.

David stayed until his dad arrived on the scene, and pulled him away. Told him to go to work. So he had. With smoke inhalation and burns on his forearms.

He hadn't been able to see Penelope's mom and dad. They hadn't even had a chance to say anything before the car started burning. But that's why, when she called later - hours into his shift at the auto shop - David knew he had to be there. He owed it to her, as the last face her parents saw.

He knows he will never say a word to her about any of it. He will explain away the burn scars in some wild story.

He dumps the Halloween Brew out in the grass, feeling sick.

* * *

><p>Ashley peeks out through her Grim Reaper mask. She is so grateful that her little brother, Andrew, decided at the last minute to be Twins baseball player #40 - whoever that is - and giving her his Scream mask. Their house is so empty now without their dad's drunk yelling. Their mom was busy talking about lawyers and trials.<p>

Because they live a few houses down from Spencer, Andrew noticed him sitting at his front window without a costume, or even a pumpkin on his front steps. Ashley has never asked but she gets the feeling Spencer has a home life kind of like theirs. Even though Andrew and Spencer don't go to school together, her brother is kind and sweet, and has invited Spencer along.

Ashley finds herself glad for the long, black cloak. It conceals her completely. She doesn't ask for candy, just watches the boys. She does her job as older sister, dying inside.

* * *

><p>"It's so fortuitous that you came over tonight! I'd been really hoping for an opportunity to wear my Albert Einstein wig," Spencer enthuses.<p>

He doesn't really have any friends his own age. So, Andrew Beauchamp is a boon if he's ever seen one. He is nice and lets Spencer talk on and on about all the things that interest him that no one will listen to. Spencer doesn't go to the middle school, but he is a senior and that means that he's in the same graduating class as Penelope. He hears the rumors about Andrew's dad, but knows logically that a child should not be blamed for his father's actions. He can only imagine what it's like for Andrew at school in seventh grade.

He remembers seventh grade. He remembers being eight years old and getting wedgies every day. He remembers how, the first time someone yelled, "Head's up!" he had taken it literally and sat up very straight from his crouched position looking in his backpack. He remembers the laughter as he got hit in the head with something.

They Trick-or-Treat and it is more fun than Spencer can recall having. When they are home, Ashley checks their candy for razor blades and poison. He notices how she doesn't eat any, and when she thinks they aren't looking, she adds her candy to their piles. Mentally, he adds this to the stress of their home lives, living with an alcoholic parent, being in a competitive sport, and being a perfectionist, as Ashley is. Plus, of course, she is too thin.

Spencer studies her seriously. "Are you anorexic?" he inquires.

She stares at him like she is caught. Like what he is asking is undeniably true. And then, she closes up.

"Here. Eat your candy," she says and gives him more than he had to begin with.

* * *

><p>It's 9:00 and on a school night, JJ would be home. But it's Saturday, and she's at a cool party at with Derek. She is dressed like young Rose, from <em>Titanic<em>. She's grateful - just for now - to be out of her nasty soccer uniform and hoodie. Long before Penelope lost her parents, JJ had asked to borrow this amazing dress that looked exactly like what Rose wore out to fancy dinner with Cal.

JJ had resigned herself to going as something else entirely, but earlier today, the costume showed up on her front steps in a Target bag. There was no note. So JJ had put it on, and shoved away memories of Trick-or-Treating with Janet, or Trick-or-Treating with Kaya. Instead, she dressed up in the costume and the red wig Penelope supplied and spent the evening addressing everyone as "sir" and "ma'am" and using words like "delectable" to describe the snacks.

Derek appears as Frankenstein, and only moans in response to questions. JJ quickly gets tired of that and decides to mingle instead, chatting with the guests and thanking Carl for his delightful party. She finds the man dressed up like a pair of dice and calls his name.

"Well, ain't you sweet, girl? Who're you supposed to be?"

"Rose," JJ intones perfectly from the movie. "Rose Dawson."

"I'm king of the world!" someone behind her yells, and JJ rolls her eyes.

"You seen Derek, Rose Dawson?" Carl asks.

"Hey, Frankenstein! You're being paged!" she calls, feeling a bit of JJ creeping out of the careful Rose.

Derek moans, so long it's almost irritating and when Carl's eyes flash, Derek swallows. He decides to knock it off.

"What do you say we play a little football?" he asks, and Derek knows better than to argue.

"Ooh! Yeah! I have my jeans in the car!" JJ cheers.

"Rose Dawson, I was thinking it'd be just the boys…" Carl says offering JJ a smile that he thinks will calm her. But knowing JJ, Derek knows it won't.

"You think girls can't play? What? You want us to be cheerleaders?" JJ asks, genuinely insulted.

"Flag football, then. Don't wanna damage the lady's sensibilities…" Carl says. There is something dark in his tone, and Derek doesn't like it.

"JJ, just leave it alone," Derek whispers.

"Hell no!" JJ denies. "It's bad enough to not be allowed to play Powderpuff because I'm a sophomore and then it's pansy flag football. Just give me a helmet and let me play."

"Shut _up_, Jennifer…" Derek warns, and whether it's because of the demand or the name he calls her by, JJ listens.

"I'll play, " Derek says, stepping between them.

He knows it is exactly what Carl wants. He has to do exactly what Carl wants. Or there will be consequences. He will lose everything. He will never be anybody. It's why he agreed to come to this party. Why he agrees every single time Carl invites him on a trip, or to do extra practice. Because at least if it's him, it won't be someone else. Not any of the other kids here. Not JJ, a first time visitor, who does not know who she is dealing with.

"Let's go, then," Carl says, and Derek follows him outside into the night.

* * *

><p>Aaron steps into the house carrying an armful of furry red monster and a bag too full of Halloween candy for Sean to eat by Christmas. He is exhausted, but knows that, unlike his brother, Aaron will not be sleeping anytime soon. He has homework. He has to check on his father, or his mother will make him feel guilty about being a terrible son.<p>

He takes Sean into his bedroom, decorated in a Toy Story wallpaper border and yellow, red and brown sponge paint beneath it. Aaron lays him down and takes off his tennis shoes and the heavy Elmo costume.

Then, he leaves him dressed in Mickey Mouse underwear and a tee shirt, and goes to the kitchen to call the hospital. He dials the number, and asks for Scott Hotchner. He identifies himself as Scott's son, for the purposes of the call, and is transferred in to speak quietly with his mother.

"You should bring the baby by. Your father would like to see him. You know, he's not going to be around all that much longer. It'd be the least you could do for him."

Aaron clenches his jaw, flipping the television past CNN and settling it on Jerry Springer's nighttime program. He watches, feeling satisfied, as one guest hurls a chair on set. "I owe him nothing," he says tightly.

The problem with having a dying father is that it eclipses the fact that his father is an ass. Aaron can count on one hand the number of times he has ever heard 'I love you' from him, but cannot keep track of the beatings with a belt, or bear hands or a switch. For tiny infractions. Not looking his father in the eye when Aaron was being reprimanded when he wasn't much older than Sean. Not cleaning up his mess in a timely manner. Speaking at the dinner table. So, Aaron is at a loss when Strauss, the youth pastor at church, says she is so sorry for what he is going through. When the pastor asks how his father is faring these days and Aaron has to bite back that he isn't dead yet, because that wouldn't be politically correct.

"Aaron. Bring the baby. Make sure he's dressed nicely. And wear something your father would approve of."

"Isn't he doing very poorly?" Aaron asks in a measured voice. "Isn't he in ICU? Sean's too young. He isn't allowed."

"Well," his mother sounds endlessly affronted. "The doctors will just have to make an exception. Your father's a very important man, you know. Just because he's ill doesn't mean he shouldn't have the dignity of seeing his children before he leaves this world."

Aaron slams the receiver down on the cradle and he cannot stop the thought that races through his head. What dignity has their father allowed them? Why should he be allowed to possess what he never freely gave, unless he wanted their family to look a certain part.

To calm himself, Aaron turns the TV off and tries to think of better things. Not of his column in journalism class on the recent rise in school violence or the essay he needs to turn in for Honors English. Not of the Modern Global Studies project that will soon be past due if he doesn't get a move on and do it.

He thinks about the highlight of his evening. Of stopping by the home of Emily Prentiss, the girl in his choir class, who started here last month after moving from Italy. She had been prepared to shut the door in their faces until she recognized him, dressed as Woody, from Toy Story. He would have never gotten away with something so frivolous if his parents were here, but the fact had been, they weren't. And it made Sean happy.

Emily recognized them both and went very quiet.

"Hello, Sean," she said, bending down and looking his brother in the eye.

At that moment, Aaron saw what he had been missing for the last month. Emily Prentiss was beautiful. She wore black to camouflage it, but it didn't matter. The way she interacted with Sean was a million times more motherly than his own mom had ever been with either of them. Aaron suspected, too, that Emily might lack parental warmth. Why, then, did she seem to have it in spades?

Why, then, was she offering Sean a tiny Hershey bar against her own mother's strained objections?


	3. November 26, 1998

To the rest of the country, it is Thanksgiving. To Emily, it is just another day. Another day in which she is alone in her large house while her parents are away on business. She knows that Erin Strauss has thought of Penelope today. But no one thinks of her. Emily has been left with her homework and her guilt. She has a project for Interpersonal Relations, which requires her to keep a journal for a week, detailing what happens in her life.

Emily is no expert, but this strikes her as incredibly narcissistic. High school students are already this way. She does not think they need any help. But she does the project anyway. She wonders if she will receive extra points for the creativity involved in painting the starkness of her days rather than describing the tedium with the written word.

Today, she paints the vast dining table, empty of plates, of turkey, of guests. The large oak expanse is bare but for the immaculate tablecloth. White, of course, like the carpet in every room. Emily cannot help thinking of an institution as she paints. Because the color is so boring, she adds copious details. The ridiculous cornucopia centerpiece. The candles, there to celebrate absolutely no one.

When she is through, Emily adds the date in calligraphy-style script. She thinks about calling Penelope, but then remembers she isn't home. There is no one else to call because everyone else values their families too highly to sacrifice a holiday's time with them to remember that there is a lonely girl, with no value whatsoever for her family, or for human life.

Her insides twist as she remembers.

Just last night she dreamed of the sound - a horrific suctioning - that Emily has never been able to forget. She is grateful for the friend she had at her side then. He is her single blessing in all of this darkness, though he seems the farthest thing from a blessing to those who love him. Ever since Emily's trouble, Matthew has changed. She finds herself hoping he is all right. He saved her life. It does not seem right that she is not there to save his.

Emily glances at her paper and rebellious fire rises inside her. She adds details that do not exist here. Flowers in vases and sunlight streaming through windows. Beneath the table - if one has a careful eye - there can be seen a vast blackness seeping out from under the low-hanging white cloth. It seeps out and wraps itself in tendrils around the legs of Emily's very own chair. Her parents' chairs remain unaffected.

She wonders if anyone will notice that she is about to be pulled under? She wonders if anyone will befriend her, the way Matthew did in Rome. Someone, maybe, who has not endured such a crippling loss as Penelope, because it isn't fair to ask someone to listen to Emily's own secrets when Penelope has so much grief of her own to bear.

Retreating to her bedroom, Emily turns on the old cassette player she brought from Italy and from France before that. And long, long ago, in these very States, Emily recalls falling asleep as a child, listening to tapes of her favorite stories and songs. This had been her single comfort.

She turns on Lorie Line's Beyond a Dream and gets lost in the beautiful wordlessness of the piano melodies.

* * *

><p>David sits on his living room couch, watching the Macy's parade and soaking in the delicious aroma of his mom's cooking. His skill in the kitchen isn't random. He comes from a long line of chefs and he is proud of that. It's one of the few things he is proud of.<p>

He adjusts the tie at his neck and wonders why in hell he is stuck wearing a shirt with a collar and khaki pants when all he's going to do is eat, watch football, and play football. But he can't argue with his parents, who are old-fashioned and want him looking nice. He figures it's the least he can do for them when he causes them so much disappointment otherwise. He has managed to keep his burns from getting infected, and now they look pretty damn cool. If only he didn't have such an awful memory attached to getting them. If only he could sleep at night without being scared awake by the sounds of Penelope's parents, trapped.

His house is filled with aunts, uncles and cousins. The annual turkey coloring contest page in the paper has been spread across the floor, and five little boys - triplets Joey, Mikey and Andy - and their older brothers, Ethan and Robby, are frantically attempting to set some kind of record. They're attacking the turkey from all angles, with markers, colored pencils and crayons that are probably fifteen years old. The boys don't care, though. David is glad for that, too, because it means he can be done playing babysitter.

It isn't his fault the entire state of Minnesota is blanketed in white, but it reminds him of Long Island, in a nice, homey sort of way. The cold is familiar.

"Let's watch _The Black Cauldron_!" Mikey pipes up and his brothers groan.

"It's not Halloween anymore, stupid!" Robby interjects.

"Don't call your brother stupid, Ugly," Dave scolds, not really meaning it and feeling ridiculous. He knows if he doesn't, he will catch hell from his mother, in addition to all the aunts.

He is grateful for the break from school and life. Grateful that he doesn't have to see Penelope every day in choir and cooking. It's like seeing an exotic parrot molting. She's lost all her brightness. It's depressing. And if he's honest, Dave's also really thankful for the break from his "no-account hoodlums" as his father calls them. Thanksgiving is as good an excuse as any to ignore them when they call.

See, it's not that he _wants_ to hang with them, it's that he _has_ to. If not, then he'll be a loser like the boy genius, getting wedgies and swirlies instead of giving them. It's not that Dave likes being a bully, it's that he's a coward, who can't handle the thought of _being _bullied.

Only the strongest survive. Natural selection. He did learn something his second time taking tenth grade biology - aside from how cool it was to have a second chance to look inside the fetal sharks and pigs they dissected.

"Guys! Come and eat!" his mom calls, and Dave is off the couch in a second, caught up in a stampede of little feet.

He likes being the oldest cousin, but sometimes, Dave really wishes he had brothers.

* * *

><p>Ashley cooks Thanksgiving dinner. She pours herself into it, wrestling the giant turkey into the sink Wednesday evening to baste it. She is pretty sure there is nothing more disgusting than preparing a turkey. Except maybe having to eat it. The positive side is, at least she has probably dropped some weight from The Great Turkey Struggle of 1998. Andrew is no help because he remains 68 pounds soaking wet. Their mom is out somewhere, probably visiting their dad. But Andrew still wants Thanksgiving dinner, and damn it, if she can help it, Ashley is going to make sure he can have it.<p>

It isn't fair that, at twelve, his life has been torn apart. Come to think of it, she is starting to look twelve. It's a welcome change. She surpassed her target weight a long time ago, but why stop now? Plus, she is still fat. Just ask any of the girls in school and all they will talk about is their weight and how they can never be thin enough.

Ashley's stomach is burning, but she has already decided that she will break her diet just this once and have some dinner. It's too tempting. Turkey and mashed potatoes and stuffing? It's all too tempting. Plus, she needs to distract herself from the mess her family's in right now and how absolutely shitty she feels about it.

At youth group and Sunday services, Penelope never even looks at her, and when she does, Ashley is sure Penelope wants to kill her. What makes it worse is that Jennifer has become like a shadow to her. She follows her everywhere and tries to make her feel better. Sure, people try to make Ashley feel better, but nobody is as cool as Jennifer. Erin, the youth pastor, tries, but she's like forty years old and doesn't know anything about life. If Ashley had Jennifer as a friend, it would be like having an older sister. Maybe, she could help her figure out how to do whatever Jennifer does to stay so fit and confident. Maybe she would feel better, just by association, being closer to somebody like that.

Ashley's life is pretty much ruined. And she isn't being over-dramatic about this. It's true. Her dad is in jail where he'll be, probably forever. Her mom has disappeared and that has left her in charge until her mom decides to come back from wherever she is and yell at her and Andrew for the dirty house or bad grades or because she had a bad day at work. Doesn't her mom even care that Ashley is almost failing Spanish? No. Of course she wouldn't, because that would mean Ashley would have to tell her mom about it, and there is no way she would admit to getting less than an A. The thing is, no matter how hard she tries, she can't remember how to conjugate verbs. She never remembers when to use _tu_ and when to use _usted_ and she still has no idea what _vosotros_ even means. She's pretty sure it isn't a real word, and that her teacher just added one to make her confused.

Ashley sets the turkey on the table and vows to do extra sit-ups tonight.

* * *

><p>Spencer has decided not to celebrate Thanksgiving on principle. He learned what it really was in second grade. He didn't believe for a second that some Pilgrims and Native Americans sat down and had some nice dinner together, and he had been right.<p>

This has nothing to do with the fact that his mother is busy covering all their windows with tinfoil, or that she spent last night keeping him awake, begging him to read aloud to her since the sound of his voice has become the only thing to soothe her when she gets worried.

Instead of celebrating, Spencer stays in his pajamas all day long. It is the best way to relax, according to his mother, and she should know. Her condition means she spends a great deal of time asleep, and therefore, in her pajamas. She encourages it, actually., and just this once Spencer has decided to take her up on it. He plays all morning in his warmest pair - red plaid with long sleeves - and his mother is right. His mother is usually right. She used to be a professor of old literature and she spends her clear moments teaching him everything she knows. When her medication is at the right level, he loves listening to her. When she forgets to take it, Spencer has learned to stay out of her way.

He plays chess against himself. He wins, naturally. He always wins against himself. Next, he gets out all of his knights and white horses and wages an incredible war. Maps are spread out on the carpet, indicating exactly where the enemy lies in wait for them. Spencer wears headphones to block out his mother, who is busy listening to the same song over and over, trying to prove that it relates to their lives somehow. If Spencer had to live with paranoia, he would much rather believe that his life resembled a Beethoven piece, with beautiful crescendos and complicated chords. Some old guy from the '60s just doesn't fit what he imagines for himself if he ever turns out like his mother. Not that he hopes for it, but it is all he knows really. There is comfort in familiarity, even if that familiarity regularly resembles chaos.

He wishes he had someone to play with, but there is no one available. They all believe the lie that Thanksgiving is some happy holiday where families spend time with each other and not him. It doesn't make sense. He is glad that in medieval times, Thanksgiving did not exist.

He turns on the television and tries to find a program that does not feel like it's killing brain cells. He stops on a rerun of _Rescue 911_. It's a show about medical emergencies and Spencer finds himself coming back to it again and again, just in case they ever include a story about a twelve-year-old miraculously discovering the cure for his mother's schizophrenia. He knows it is not that kind of show, but it's something Spencer likes to pretend. Just in case it could happen someday.

He makes his best knight stab his adversary fatally and the evildoer collapses and dies of a punctured lung. It's satisfying being in charge of things. He does not miss Thanksgiving at all.

He takes a bite of his bologna sandwich and goes back to playing.

* * *

><p>JJ is busy losing herself in the storyline of <em>Party of Five. <em>She is trying to soak up as much of it as she can. She liked it before Penelope lost her parents to a drunk driver, but now, it's like she can't get enough of it. She studies the character closest to Penelope's age - that's Julia - for clues about how this loss might affect Penelope.

So far, it's not reassuring. Julia wants to have sex with boys and party. But Julia has big brothers to set her straight - hot big brothers at that - Penelope is an only child. Technically she's eighteen, so does that make her an only adult? JJ isn't sure. She jots down a note about asking Penelope if she wants to talk. If JJ doesn't write it down now, she will get intimidated when she is face to face with her. Penelope didn't use to scare her so much, but ever since her parents died, she transformed into this other person, who hated JJ with a passion.

"Jennifer? Turn that off and come and help me set the table," her mom calls.

JJ sighs, wishing that live TV had a pause button and dreaming of the day when she could pause Bailey mid-action so she could see the drama of his intervention unfold in front of her eyes. Maybe if someone had given Charles Beauchamp an intervention he wouldn't have been such a bonehead and driven drunk like that.

She walks to the kitchen and immediately goes for the plates. It's not until she sets them around that she realizes her mistake. Her mom makes a small, strangled sound, and her dad brings his hand down forcefully on the table.

"Damn it, Jenny! Think!" he yells before he takes off after her mother.

Swallowing the lump in her own throat, JJ takes away the fourth plate that somehow still - four years later - made it from the cupboard to JJ's hand and to the table before it was ever noticed.

Ten minutes later, her parents are back and the table is set for three. JJ tries to think of what she is grateful for. After her father says grace - which happens strictly on the major holidays - he will ask that they all share one thing they are grateful for.

"Ladies first," he says, after they pray, and their plates are loaded with food.

JJ wracks her brain for something that is true but not something that will piss off her parents a second time. There's soccer, but that would be a big fat lie. She hates soccer. She plays because she got some freaky talent for it, and because it's a way into college and out of this place, not for a love of the game. She has spent months - ever since around the time of Penelope's parents' accident - waiting for this huge goose egg on her forehead to go away. That's what she gets for heading the ball face-to-face against fellow teammate Elle Greenaway. Now, the lump is finally gone, and in its place are raccoon black eyes and damage to her nose. Derek saw it and assumed she was in denial about some dude beating her, but she set him straight.

Her father clears his throat and JJ blinks. Oh, yeah. She's supposed to say something she's grateful for.

It's out of her mouth before she can stop it, the name of the child who does not really exist anymore:

"Kaya."

For the second time, her parents leave the table.

JJ loads her plate with potatoes, staring at Janet's empty chair.

* * *

><p>Derek tries to help prepare Thanksgiving dinner, but he finds himself doing non-catastrophe work, like peeling potatoes and apples. The cooking and baking? That's up to his mama and his older sisters. Sarah is twenty and Desiree is sixteen. Now, don't go thinking he's a chauvinist. It's their own decision, after that birthday cake he tried to help with in 1994, back in Chicago.<p>

In Derek's defense, he had been eleven years old. How was he supposed to know that adding a little extra baking soda would render a cake a national disaster? Or that forgetting that cake in the oven would mean a kitchen full of smoke and a visit from the local fire department. The ladies in his life have never let him live it down. He lets them tease him for it because it's how they relate and it's a good distraction from everything else he's thinking about.

The nightmares are back. They're bad. He can't talk about it, or them, to anyone. So, instead, he tries to offer help where he can. Because his daddy taught him when things are bad for you, they're worse for someone else, and Derek should always try to lend a hand, where he could.

"Hey, uh… That trip to Chicago's coming up. The end of March," he starts out matter-of-factly.

"Oh, that's right!" his mama answers. "Are you writing those support letters so your friends and people in the church can help send you?"

"Yes, ma'am. It's just… Hotch signed up to go, but he's been talkin' about taking his name off the list. He's taking care of Sean lately and he can't see leaving his brother with his mama at the hospital…"

"Scott Hotchner's a bastard…" Sarah comments lowly, sitting down at the table.

"Oh, Sarah! Mind your mouth! You may be grown, but you will never be too old for me to put over my knee and paddle your butt…"

Derek smiles at the mental image, and at Sarah's ability to see through people's bull shit. But this is also why she can never meet Carl. Because Derek has no doubt that she will be able to see in half a second what his mother has not detected in two years. He doesn't need Sarah's ESP getting in the way of everything he is gaining.

"He has cancer! He's like, dying!" Desiree objects. "You can't say that about somebody who's dying. It's mean."

"It's _true_," Sarah insists. Then she turns to Derek. "Tell Aaron we'll watch Sean for him. That kid needs some time to be a teenager, and not a father."

This is what makes Derek so grateful for his family. No matter their differences or how they might tease him, they are here for each other when it matters. And that love extends beyond their own circle. It extends to friends and siblings of friends. It makes Derek sit up a little taller in his chair. It makes him desire to be the kind of man equal to the women in his life. It makes him want to be better. To make his father proud.

"Thanks, Sarah," Derek says honestly. "I'll call him tomorrow."

* * *

><p>Sean has spent the last twelve hours vomiting, sleeping, and crying. It makes the prospect of eating anything and enjoying it seem dim. It makes the house smell and it takes away every single one of Aaron's plans to possibly pay Emily Prentiss a visit today. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that her parents are as uninvolved as his own, but for different reasons. He hazards to guess that she is spending this fine holiday alone, just as he is. He had pictured it in his mind. The three of them going out to the Indian restaurant Aaron had discovered. Introducing Sean - lover of Chef Boyardee - to international cuisine. But Sean's bout with the stomach bug has put a halt to any such plans.<p>

Aaron spends hours entirely too close to his sick brother. He wears gloves so he will not have to touch any of the repulsive matter with his bare hands, but Sean screamed in fear at the sight of his big brother in a surgical mask. It had been a feeble attempt to guard against the stench. But now he braves this revolting situation like a man, trying to think about what needs to be done and not what it is doing to his own insides.

Sean has stopped trying to communicate with words and just cries. He is burning up. And he's only remotely calm if Aaron holds him. Otherwise, he sleeps. It is a miserable existence.

Aaron has tried, for the last two hours, to think of a person who might not mind the stench of vomit. Who might be able to sit with his brother next to his car seat in the back and hold the receptacle while Aaron drives them both to urgent care. Sean is listless. He is not even keeping down water. Aaron supposes he should be grateful that this crisis of mammoth proportions has chosen a school break to occur and not a regular Thursday. But his gratefulness does not eclipse the fact that he is in over his head here.

He stares at the telephone in his hand. He thinks of his friends, and of who knows Sean. Of who lives the closest, and can be here the fastest.

"Emily? It's Aaron. Hotchner. I'm sorry to call on Thanksgiving, but I have a bit of an emergency."

That is all it takes. She is here, like a miracle, still dressed in black and silver and piercing. She takes Sean, without gloves and holds him, feeling his forehead for fever.

"It's 103," Aaron reports.

"Have you tried Tylenol?" Emily asks as Sean whimpers in her arms.

"Yes, but…it didn't stay down…"

"Have you tried a bath?"

Aaron can't admit that he was too frightened of Sean being sick in the water, and how he would clean it, to risk that option. "No," he says instead.

"Okay. Come on, sweetheart," she says gently, carrying Sean into the immaculate bathroom, stripping his dirty clothes off and running lukewarm water in the tub. When she sets him in it, he tries to climb out. He shivers. He wails like he is in agony. Aaron sits by grimly and waits, hoping the fever will come down.

Emily sings - well, humming would be a more accurate term - her voice sliding from note to note without words. Aaron cannot recognize what the melody should be and doubts Sean does either. What matters is that she is trying. She is nurturing where Aaron's own mother cannot and will not.

It means something.

It means everything.

* * *

><p>Penelope stops way short, halfway into Erin Strauss's cozy home. She has been stupid to agree to this, and she knows it in a second. The second she hears the sound of children running and laughing. The second she sees that Erin has a husband. The second she hears the kids say, "Mom, did you see Santa in the parade?"<p>

"Thank you for the offer but I can't stay," Penelope declines, when what she really wants to do is scream at Erin. All she really wants to do is scream at herself. Because why on earth would she have thought it would just be the two of them? Why was she so dumb to assume that Erin, beautiful and thirty-something would not have a husband and two children? Why had Penelope not seen this coming?

It was bad enough that she drove to get here - down frickin' 252 no less - hyperventilating all the way… Now she has to drive home again. And ever since September, Penelope has been terrified of driving anywhere. This is a horrible day and God is playing a terrible joke. The joke is called everyone else gets to have parents while she doesn't. The joke is how the hell is she going to survive this? The joke is on her. And it is not funny. She gropes in the pocket of her jacket for the last note she left her parents and tries to imagine that her parents read it, instead of knocking it off the table in their haste to return to work after their lunch break at home.

But all she can see is the note on the kitchen floor, facedown. All she can see are her parents, in the morgue. Kids get foster families when tragedies hit them. But when an eighteen-year-old loses her parents and has no other relatives, then what? Since when does turning eighteen make a person an expert in life? Penelope knows absolutely nothing. She has spent the fifty-six days in the basement of her house with her dad's old computer, trying to figure out something that might fill the emptiness inside her. So far, nothing has worked.

Sometimes, Emily helps. She started sneaking into Penelope's bedroom window like a lover or a bad influence, but really, all she did was help Penelope feel less alone. She sat on the floor while Penelope curled in bed facing the wall. She said nothing, but Penelope wanted nothing said, so it worked out well.

For someone who hates driving, Penelope finds herself doing an awful lot of it. She drives to Emily and Aaron's part of town. There are no cars in either driveway. She goes to the church and on the way, peers at JJ and Derek's houses. She imagines being Peter Pan, and looking in the windows. Then, she remembers an obscure fact that she once heard. The author of Peter Pan had lost his brother.

"Damn it!" she curses, because it's all she can do. Are there no happy families? She must have been living in a dream world to be as upbeat and clueless as she was before. She wishes someone had warned her that morning she woke up late.

She wishes someone had told her the night before - as she said good night to her parents - that this would be the last time she would ever see them.

She whips a U-turn, and doubles back to Emily's. She waits in the driveway in her car until Emily returns hours later, and wordlessly, invites Penelope inside.

They have an un-Thanksgiving. They don't talk. They don't eat turkey. They just sit in silence, each knowing that some losses are too deep for words.


	4. December 14, 1998

It may sound ridiculous, but David loves Christmas. It's his favorite holiday, for obvious reasons. Getting gifts. Giving gifts. He has spent the entire weekend looking for the perfect thing for Strauss. Incognito, of course. He can't get caught out at the local Target asking the woman at the jewelry counter what necklace she would recommend for a girlfriend, at the start of a relationship. True, he and Strauss aren't in a relationship. _Yet. _But he knows it is just a matter of time. They are only eleven years apart, and he's mature for his age. She has a house. He has a job. He can cook. Sure, she might have kids and a husband now, but he knows all she needs to do is pay attention the catch that is right in front of her.

As it turns out, it's not hard to keep a low profile. Not when he has decided to skip school on Monday. Some things take priority. Plus, he already knows how to make every damn thing in cooking class. Choir is a joke; he can test sections of music in his sleep. And his other two classes? Well, he doesn't have a prayer of passing those anyway.

He examines the necklaces and earrings. David thinks about how much money he has and how much he can spare. True, he _could_ steal it, but he wouldn't feel right about getting something for an honest gal like Strauss dishonestly. She would ask him about it, he is sure. Then he will have to admit the truth.

"What about this thing? You think this is good for an older woman?" David asks, gesturing to the necklace with the heart dangling from it.

"Oh, you're buying something for your mother, aren't you? That's so sweet." The saleswoman gushes.

"No, for my girlfriend. She's in college. St. Cloud State. Studying to be a teacher." This lie is actually the truth, in part. Strauss did study at SCSU, though she transferred to some Bible college and got her degree in New Testament, whatever the hell that is. David has no idea how somebody can major in a part of the Bible. It seems shady to him. But since it is Strauss, he has decided to let it go.

"Well, this is one of our most popular pieces this season. I think your girlfriend will love it."

With all the self-control he possesses, he takes the necklace to the checkout lane. He takes out his money, and pays for it like a man. Then, he drives over to the church, where he knows Strauss has an office.

Her office is painted an ugly shade of lavender. It strikes David as far too soft and prissy for a woman like Strauss. He stops in the doorway, seeing her at her desk, working on something. He clears his throat.

"Oh. David. Did you need something?" she asks and sends him a concerned smile.

"No… I, uh, I actually have something for you. For Christmas!" he adds in a hurry when he sees her sit back, uncomfortable.

She is easily the most gorgeous woman he has ever seen. Blonde hair that she always pins up so curls fall around her tan face. Blue eyes that always flash in a way that lets him know she won't take any shit. She wears jeans and isn't too dressy. She has this careful way of speaking that his recklessness admires.

David takes out the box, tied with a red ribbon and fights the urge to get on one knee. _It isn't a ring, dumb ass!_ he reminds himself. He hands it to her, feeling suddenly awkward.

She takes it and eyes it, and he nearly collapses, watching her perfect hands untie the bow and open the box. She gasps a little. He knows she is seeing the delicate silver chain with the tiny heart and the word LOVE inscribed on its surface.

"David, this… This is beautiful, but it's too much… I can't accept this…" Strauss says, regret, apology, and fear shining in her eyes.

"It's legitimate…" he hurries to explain, digging in his winter jacket pocket for the receipt. "I didn't come by it dishonestly, I swear on my mother."

"David… You know I'm married. I have children."

He flushes, feeling like she's slapped him. "Well, yeah. I knew that. I was just trying to be nice. But you know, forget it."

Turning, he leaves her. But he leaves the necklace with her. Just in case she changes her mind.

* * *

><p>There is nothing worse than being in the hospital at Christmas time. Except of course, being in the hospital and everybody acting like it's your fault. She hates the damn feeding tube. She hates being weighed every morning - backward on the scale - so she can't see the numbers. She hates that they have discovered the other thing. The thing that leaves her stomach covered in scars. They don't get that it is the only way to distract herself from feeling hungry. From feeling, period.<p>

Her brother found her. It was the last thing Ashley had wanted to happen. She tried to fight the dizziness. The lightheadedness. The everything, while she was exercising that morning. But, for the first time, it hadn't worked. Andrew heard her fall. He came running. And finding her in a sports bra with her thin, thin body that still wasn't thin enough, he called an ambulance.

Now, her life is really hell. Her mother has visited once. Long enough to beg her to eat. To beg her to sign that says she will not harm herself. Then, she left, signing a contract of her own - a 5150 - an involuntary psychiatric hold. It's scary here. She doesn't want to stay in this place. She has hardly ever slept away from home. This isn't fair. Doesn't her mom realize that if she could just start eating again, she would? Doesn't she know that Ashley feels like a horrible person every time she adds another mark to the rest?

The hospital is scaring the crap out of her, but so is the feeding tube. The doctors tried talking her into eating, but Ashley couldn't agree. It's like something was physically preventing her from saying the words. Everything in her head that reminded her that this is the way things _had_ to be. If not this, she will get even fatter than she is. She will be teased again. Kids will spit mouthfuls of chewed up food at her. Now, she is stuck with this thing coming out of her. She wants so bad to pull it out, because who knows how many calories they are pumping into her? She wants to rip it out, but it was so painful to get it placed. Ashley shudders at the memory. She knows now that she is stuck with the damn NG tube. That if she pulls it out, she will have to endure getting it put back in.

It has happened already. So Ashley knows it can happen again.

She wishes Jennifer would visit, but she is not holding her breath.

She wishes someone would visit, but nobody cares about her.

Just then, a knock sounds at the door. Ashley pushes herself up, feeling sapped of strength at the one tiny action. Nobody knocks here; everybody just barges in and does whatever they want to her.

The door opens a little, and on the other side, stands Spencer, holding a teddy bear.

* * *

><p>Spencer isn't particularly sure he wants to be doing this, but he knows it is the right thing. His mother is in the psychiatric ward right now. Christmas gets her paranoia going for reasons he doesn't understand. So instead of going to school, where he knows everything already, Spencer has spent time with his mom, reading her favorite books out loud to her, until she got violent and started screaming.<p>

He knows from Andrew that Ashley is here. He knows, too, exactly where the pediatric psych wing of the hospital is located. He knows they will not let a child inside, but that's why Spencer keeps a low profile.

Finally, he finds a doctor. He pretends to be Andrew Beauchamp, who Spencer knows, hasn't yet visited his sister, and he is pointed in the right direction. Usually, Spencer knows, an adult would need to be present, but the staff is aware of the Beauchamp's family situation.

That's how he comes to stand at Ashley's door with a bear. He knows from living with his mother that in the right circumstance, even a card or an envelope can be used as a weapon against oneself.

"Hi," he says, feeling awkward now that he's actually here.

"What are you doing here?" Ashley asks.

She looks like a victim of a concentration camp, or starvation during wartime. She is so thin and pale. The skin around her eyes is kind of bluish. She has a lot of blankets on her bed.

He hears his mother's voice in his head, admonishing him to stop staring. "I'm staying with Erin Strauss," he says matter-of-factly. "I told her I had to, because my mother got admitted here, too. And since I'm legally a minor, I didn't want Child Protective Services to come and take me away. So, she agreed. She doesn't know I'm skipping school today to visit my mom." He pauses and climbs carefully onto Ashley's bed. "Then, I remembered that Andrew mentioned you're here, too. So, I'm pretending to be him," he confides the last part in a whisper.

Ashley cracks a smile. "You didn't have to."

He hands her the teddy bear and sits back, thinking. "I've been around psychiatric illness long enough that I know you aren't doing this because you want to," he offers gently. "It's something inside you…"

She nods and there are tears in her eyes. Veins show clearly in her hands as she clutches the blanket over her lap.

"I want you to know I understand. And the best thing to do in these situations, when you're so sick like this? Is to let other people help you. There's that part of you that you can't control, telling you to destroy yourself, but you can take that control back. You can fight this. Instead of letting the bad part of you have all the control, take some of it back. Even a little bit at a time. Right now, for instance, you're choosing to leave this nasal-gastric tube in place. That's Ashley, fighting back. Just take it a second at a time. You'll make it. We have to go to Chicago together, remember?" he says, quirking a smile at her.

"Yeah," she says and laughs a little.

He reaches out and holds her ice cold hand in both of his.

* * *

><p>JJ is trying to concentrate on whatever her history teacher is saying, but test anxiety has overwhelmed her. This history class should be honors level. Ask anyone. It was abundantly clear after the first test when the grades came back. There was one A, two Bs, four Cs, and the majority of the grades including hers? Big fat Fs.<p>

It's kind of cool that they get to test in partners, but not cool that they can only test with other people on her own academic level. She has tried to ask their teacher, with the Albert Einstein hair, Mr. Samuels, how she was supposed to learn anything or get any smarter when she was constantly testing with other F-getters. But he just said, "Suck it up, wiener! Study harder! If you have a question, ask."

He calls everybody wieners. And he tells everyone to "suck it up." When something is good, he encourages them to give "one clap." If something annoys him, Mr. Samuels institutes the "one-handed clap" which makes no sound. He's an eccentric guy, and JJ admits it, she likes his class. Even if she hasn't gotten higher than a C on any of his tests, and that was a total fluke.

JJ's favorite part comes after the tests. She can't wait until the end of the week when Mr. Samuels brings out his guitar and leads them all in songs from whatever historical time they studied. JJ has already learned a song called "Goober Peas" and another called "We Shall Overcome." She can't wait to find out what they will sing this week.

But looking at the test, tears spring to JJ's eyes. None of this makes sense to her. Only a little even looks familiar. She does not want to cry right now. She has no reason to, other than the fact that she's an academic moron. Four hours of studying last night clearly made no impact. Tears slide down her cheeks and she tries to breathe. She is glad she chose to take this test alone.

"Hey, Jennifer. It's all right, man," Mr. Samuels says quietly. He doesn't usually walk around during tests, but for her, he must have made an exception. Through her blur of tears, she cannot make out what he's doing, or saying. Then, it's clear.

Carefully, with no one else the wiser, Mr. Samuels has turned her desk so it faces the wall. He takes extra papers and covers up the rest of the test, except for the first question.

"Just take it one thing at a time. You'll do great. Just give it your best."

JJ takes a deep, steadying breath and looks down. She finds her overwhelming test looks suddenly almost manageable. "Thanks," she says in a hushed voice.

* * *

><p>Derek grits his teeth and tries to focus. Normally, he would love the opportunity to scale the wall, like they are doing today in gym, but today, his mind keeps wandering. Tonight, he has to go to Carl's after school and do God-knows-what. For just a second, Derek closes his eyes and offers up a quick prayer. It hasn't worked so far, but that just means that Derek should probably pray more, to let God know that he really needs this. He really needs to just hang out with Carl without all these stipulations. He really just needs a man to talk to. Strauss is great, but she doesn't have too much knowledge about being a fifteen-year-old who's stuck in the middle of his life.<p>

Just then, he slips. His body contracts as the harness he is wearing does its job. The thing is, he's got pain. So this hurts. Bad. Derek drags in air and tries to fix this. Tries to keep climbing, because it hurts less than falling off.

He wishes Christmas break wasn't coming up at the end of the week. Most kids looked forward to it, but most kids probably didn't have Carl to deal with. Everything's a game with him. If Derek wants something, even just to talk about a guy problem, he has to give Carl something first. It's twisted and sick and Derek knows better. He knows he should say no. But he can't. Not when Carl's going to make sure he gets into college. Not when Carl made sure that none of Derek's juvenile record of stuff from Chicago followed him here. Carl is doing so much for him, Derek figures, it is the least he can do…

But, Jesus, it hurts. Does he have to go back? Does he have to go to Chicago? What if he just takes off? Lives on the road. Follows God's will that way. But he already knows that he can't do that. He could never leave his mama. He could never leave Desiree and Sarah. They are family and they have to be here for each other.

"Morgan! Stop daydreaming!" Ms. Jones snaps him out of his thoughts.

"Yes, ma'am," he responds.

"Climbing," he reports to his belayer for a good measure.

"Climb on," the voice below encourages.

* * *

><p>As soon as school is over, Aaron rushes from Modern Global Studies to the childcare center to pick up Sean. Ever since last week, it has been a race to get to him. Aaron has to be home by precisely 2:30. Last week, his dad was released from the hospital, having made a miraculous recovery, and responding to treatment, after months at death's door.<p>

Aaron grimly endured the screaming and the beatings, taking them, while he hid Sean at Emily's house. This has been the way his days have been ever since. Despite the Christmas tree in the corner, despite the growing stack of presents for Sean, and the few for Aaron himself, the Christmas spirit seemed to have no affect on his old man.

As Aaron enters the house today, he can hear the gentle sounds of the TSO's Christmas Eve and Other Stories. He knows not to be deceived by it. He can breathe a little easier now that Sean is at Emily's. Aaron knows the mere sight of a crying child infuriates his father more. So Aaron does all he can to shield Sean. He waits until his father has physically exhausted himself to go retrieve his brother.

"What the hell is this, Aaron? You never told me the baby was sick!" his father roars.

"He's fine now. I took care of it," Aaron responds, carefully censoring his speech. He does not want to slip and say _we_. He does not want Emily involved in this.

Aaron does not know how his father has found out. There are no hospital or urgent care bills. There are no baskets of dirty laundry to indict him. He was careful. But evidently not careful enough.

When it comes, Aaron lets it come. The fists and the feet and the angry tirade of words.

"I am his father! Not you! He's mine!"

"Children aren't possessions," Aaron grinds out. "His name is Sean. Sean…David…Hotchner," he gasps.

"Don't get smart with me, boy!"

"Do you know what he was for Halloween? How he eats his cereal in the morning? What his favorite book is? Who his friends are?" Aaron asks, unable to stop the flow of words. "A father knows these things. You are not his father."Aaron is sure he's done it. There is fear, quick and sharp, as he realizes he has gone too far. But Scott surprises him. He goes very calm and says, simply:

"Get out. And bring back my son!"

"Gladly," Aaron wheezes. He limps out the door and into the snow. He heads for Emily's house, hoping her parents are still no-shows.

* * *

><p>Wordless, Emily pulls open when she hears Aaron knocking. He has a distinct, frantic knock. She knows from doing this for the past week, that Aaron has parked around the corner and walked to her house, in order to avoid detection. Emily admires this.<p>

She leads him into the house and directly to one of the restrooms. Penelope is playing with Sean in the back yard. She is showing him how to make snow creatures that Emily has never heard of. Snowmen, of course, she knows. But Emily is unfamiliar with the snow dogs and snow faeries Penelope promises to create.

Emily is glad, for now, that Sean is out of the way. He does not need to see Aaron like this. She eases open the buttons of his shirt, wincing silently at the bruises on his stomach. When she eases the shirt off, she sees marks on his back, too.

"Where's Sean?" Aaron manages.

"Outside with Penelope," Emily soothes. "He's fine. She's watching over him."

"Could you have her bring him inside, please?" he gasps. "I have reason to believe Scott may come looking for him."

Emily reaches down, and pulls a walkie-talkie from her belt. Penelope picked them up from her house, and brought them back here. Sometimes, in the huge, quiet house, late at night, they pretended to be secret agents. They discovered different trouble in each of the large rooms. They have spent so much time together by now that even their styles are starting to bleed into each other. Penelope has taken to wearing black, along with her giant pink winter jacket. And Emily has spent the last few nights trying out Penelope's peasant dress. Not the one from September. Penelope has several horrid versions, and Emily has picked the least horrid of them all. She finds she likes it. She can see why Penelope enjoyed wearing them so much.

"Zone Three to Zone Seven, do you copy?" Emily says in a clipped, efficient tone she learned from her parents.

"Zone Seven to Zone Three, yes indeed. The snow forts are nearly complete. The child is the perfect size to ride the snow dog. I was right!"

"Penelope, I need you to bring Sean inside," Emily says seriously. She feels bad cutting off the obvious joy Penelope is feeling. There has been so little of it for her. But Sean is like a beacon of hope. Like a bright star in a dark evening sky.

"Copy," Penelope agrees. In seconds, Emily hears the back door close and lock. She hears Sean laughing and Penelope talking to him about the great adventures they will have in the library.

"There. Safe and sound," Emily reassures.

"Thank you," Aaron says quietly, bowing his head.

* * *

><p>Penelope brings her brave snow boy inside, and helps him out of his boots, hat, mittens, coat and snow pants. She puts them in Emily's clothes dryer with her own wet outer clothes and then takes his hand and walks him to the library, with its big, cozy chairs and fireplace. She is sure they can find something to read. And if not, then Penelope will make something up. It has been too long since she has told a story.<p>

"That fun?" Sean asked, smiling and nodding.

"It _was_ fun, right?" Penelope answers, scooping Sean up in her arms. "Now, what should we read, brave little warrior?" she asks, holding him up to see the shelves of books.

"Woody and Buzz Lightyear?" he asks curiously. "Or….Elmo…or Mulan…" Sean offers, comically tapping his chin.

"Hmm…I don't see any of those…_but_ what if I told you a fabulous story about a dragon-slayer named Sean the Great and you listened?" Penelope offers, keeping her voice excited.

"Yeah! Okay! You the dragon?"

Penelope laughs. "Sure, I'm the dragon…" She takes him over to a big arm char in front of the fire and wraps them both in a big fleece blanket. Leaning back, she closes her eyes and loses herself in her own imagination.

"Once upon a time, there was a brave dragon-slayer named Sean the Great! Sean was just a little boy in the mortal world, but at night, when he sleeps, he is magically transformed into the bravest dragon-slayer in the land!"

"Aaron?" Sean asks, interrupting Penelope suddenly.

"What, hon'?" she asks, holding him closer. If you ask her, there is nothing more healing than hanging out with a two-year-old.

"Aaron help me?" Sean repeats, looking at her with fathomless brown eyes.

"Oh, of course! Of course! And Sean the Great had a powerful big brother named Aaron the Mighty, and together they fought evil and kept their castle safe."

"And dragons?" Sean reminds, putting his cold hand on the side of Penelope's face.

"And then, the big dragon named Penelope tried to come in. She said, "Please let me in, Sean the Great! I'm not a mean dragon. I'm nice. I just happen to breathe fire accidentally when I become nervous or very sad."

"Hey?" Sean calls suddenly, though Penelope remains two inches from his face. She knows that in this particular cadence "Hey" is his approximation of her name. "You can come in, dragon. We take care of you."

"Thanks, Sean the Great," Penelope answers, giving him a kiss. "You're the greatest."

So, you see, she is by no means okay. Less than three months later her heart is still in pieces and depression is still a constant companion. But she is beginning to see the beauty in her life again. Slowly. With the help of redeemed dragon-slayers and secret agents.

It's a process. And she is getting there.


	5. January 20, 1999

Ashley takes a deep breath and steels herself before walking inside. The church has become less of a safe haven for her and more of an obligation. She has to keep coming if she wants to be allowed to go to Chicago in two months. She has turned in all the money already. She is keeping the journal about her spiritual life the way Erin Strauss suggests. Ashley wonders if it really counts, though, given how much regular life she has been living.

In Ashley's mind, getting treatment for her issues has been the most difficult thing she has ever done. She has twice the battle to fight because she has two vices, and each one has the same amount of pull on her. It takes a crazy amount of focus and willpower to do what's right for herself instead of what's easy.

Spencer is helping, which is a miracle. Ashley hasn't thought that anyone in her former circle of friends would step up when she needed them, but he surprised her. He calls all the time and asks how she's doing. He tells her only the encouraging statistics about recovery from problems.

The thing is, none of this makes it into her journal. Not her hospitalization over Christmas. Not the specialized program she's spent the last month at a residential facility, where she and all the girls were not given the option not to eat. They were monitored so closely it felt like jail at first. Ashley is learning to stop obsessing during meals. She is learning to keep her hands where they can be seen. She never leaves any food behind on her plate now. She never wants to go back to that place - but she never wanted to come back from it, either.

She can't imagine Erin Strauss reading all that stuff about her. So, Ashley leaves it out. Instead, she writes lyrics to songs that have helped her and different Bible verses, especially the ones about the body being a temple. She says she is excited to go to Chicago to help others and not focus on herself. Everything she writes is true, and everything is a lie. If she tells the truth, Erin will never let her come, and she can't stay home.

Ashley ducks inside the church. They are already started. She can hear the praise music from the lobby area. It warms her inside. She prays they won't watch any videos about sins, like they sometimes do. Visual cues are the hardest to ignore. To help, she has worn long sleeves tonight. She has tucked her shirt in and is wearing a belt. She is trying so hard. She has bracelets on and her belt is a nice belt. If she sees beautiful things on her, maybe, she will remember to treat herself well…

"Hey, Ashley," Spencer says, as she comes into the sanctuary.

"Hey," she returns. She stays in the back, in the shadows. She doesn't want to make things any harder on Penelope, who is praying out an open door, with tears streaming down her face.

* * *

><p>Spencer looks around curiously. He has yet to figure out why certain songs cause emotional reactions among the people in his youth group. They are just words set to music. He doesn't understand why Penelope has her hands raised, and is seemingly praying out an open door into the night. It is cold and she isn't wearing a jacket. Only a black outfit and some scarf that looks quite expensive. He looks to his right and sees Emily seated in one of the wide window sills, her body pressed against the glass, looking out. Spencer is curious about Penelope and Emily's connection to the outdoors, because they don't seem like outdoor people.<p>

Spencer might know why Ashley is on her knees, praying quietly in the dark, back corner of the sanctuary, though. She is praying for strength to do what she has to. He knows because he has visited her in the hospital and a month later, at home, when she was released. He has promised to be her food buddy in Chicago. Though it's not the terminology he would have chosen, Spencer understands it isn't the terminology that's important. It's what she has asked him to do. To keep her on track. Remind her that even though she is in the outside world, the rules she learned in treatment still apply. Spencer has decided he will do this in an understated manner. It's not about bullying or embarrassing Ashley into complying. It's about helping her stay healthy.

Aaron is in the parenting room with Sean. This, at least, makes sense. Sean is having a severe temper tantrum, and as soundproof as the room is supposed to be, he can hear every time Sean screams and carries on. It's very distracting.

Derek is praying in a slightly different way than Ashley, but in a similar position. He is on the steps that lead up to what Spencer is pretty sure is called the altar, even though there is nothing there that resembles an altar. The area has been designated as special. The worship team used to sing from there, but years ago, they moved, to stand beside it instead, on some kind of spiritual conviction. Derek explained it once, but Spencer can't remember the significance of the move. He just gets a feeling that Derek is serious about his prayer if he has chosen this location to kneel and offer it up. It isn't common to see anyone kneel there, much less high school kids.

Spencer searches for David, and cannot find him for the longest time. Then, he sees him. He is sitting quietly in a pew, with his head bowed. He is repeating words over and over again. He looks quite serious, and it catches Spencer by surprise.

JJ has gone up to the microphone, where the worship team is. Instead of sharing some kind of insight, she joins in the singing. This is shocking on multiple levels. First, Spencer has never known JJ could sing. Second, what she is doing, simply isn't done. The worship team sings at the microphones, with instruments. Everyone else sings without. He wonders if she will get in trouble and hopes not. She has a beautiful voice. Listening to it, he starts to understand that emotional response some people have to the music.

"Holy, you are still holy…even when the darkness surrounds my life. Sovereign…you are still sovereign…even when confusion has blinded my eyes. Lord, I don't deserve your kind affection when my unbelief has kept me from your touch. I want my life to be a pure reflection of your love. And so I come into your chamber and dance at your feet…"

She abandons the microphone and starts to move gracefully around the floor. Spencer hasn't been aware that JJ is a dancer, but what he sees now confirms it. Though she isn't built like the traditional dancer, she _is _one. She feels the music in her entire being. She is continuing to tell the story where her voice left off, but now, she's telling it with movement.

Spencer thinks this might be the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

* * *

><p>JJ finds she can't get herself together after worship, so she slips away into the bathroom. That song always does it to her. Does God know how much she misses Janet? Does he even care? Does he care that last Sunday, she picked up a coloring page that Kaya dropped, and handed it back. Does he care that JJ overheard her own niece say, "The girl got it for me." Not her auntie. Not JJ. Just the girl. Is that all she is? Is that all she is destined to be? Will she ever know her niece? Will she ever give anything to the world that's more significant than sports accomplishments?<p>

Taking a deep breath, JJ tries to pull herself together. Crying about this won't do any good. She needs to pull herself together. There are plenty of people around here worse off than she is.

Just then, a knock sounds at the door.

"JJ?" Derek calls. "Are you okay?"

He won't come in. Derek believes that there are lines that a man should not cross. Male and female bathrooms one of those lines. This is why, instead, JJ comes to him. She opens the door, and is stunned when he simply wraps his arms around her.

Derek doesn't say a word. Doesn't ask her to explain herself or tell her to stop crying or to be strong. He doesn't walk away and leave her alone when she is hurting. He always seems to know when she needs him. No matter what is going on with him, he is always there for her. She appreciates it more than words. She takes him up on it, letting herself cry, unashamed, against his chest.

It would be easy to say that JJ is just feeling sorry for herself. To dismiss her own feelings. But she knows. JJ knows. If she even flirts with that possibility, she will become like Ashley. Like Janet. Turning her feelings against herself, instead of letting them out. JJ might feel sad right now, but it doesn't change the fact that there are things she wants to do, and a life she wants to live. She wants to help others, and she knows that to do that, she needs to make sure she is okay.

"Thanks…" she manages. Not "I'm sorry." Not "I'm okay, don't worry."

"Anytime," Derek says quietly. It hasn't escaped her that he is still hanging on. It means so much to have a friend like this. She wishes there were a way for her to repay this kindness. So, she takes his hand and leads him over to the couch in the lobby area of church. She sits down with him and prays that Strauss doesn't come looking for them.

"Derek…" she starts. "Are _you _okay?" She studies him carefully for hints. She can read the truth in his eyes but there is only so much they can tell her. All she knows for sure is, something is very wrong.

* * *

><p>"We should get back inside. We gotta experience God and all that, remember?" Derek offers JJ a smile. A smile she doesn't buy for a second.<p>

"Why do you do that?" she asks, looking angry. Tears still shine in her eyes and are drying on her face. "Why do you always pretend nothing's wrong when I know damn well something is?" When he doesn't speak, she continues. "We're best friends. You're here for me and I'm here for you. That's the way it works." She seems to run out of steam suddenly. "Look. You don't have to tell me anything. But if you want to…I'm here…I'll believe you…"

These are the moments when he wishes to God that he _could_ tell JJ. Isn't this exactly what he's prayed for since eighth grade? That someone would listen? That someone would believe him? Now, here it is, and he finds himself silent. He can't out Carl, because Carl's given him so much. Because if Derek does, then he'll have to testify. If he testifies, then it will be his word against Carl's. Carl is one of the most upstanding men in the community. Derek knows because he has asked Spencer about the Law class - the social studies course for seniors. He has asked about trials involving the testimony and Spencer's answers confirmed for Derek the truth he already felt in his heart.

He can never tell.

But, God, he wishes he could.

"That really means a lot to me. Thank you," Derek says and means it. "The truth is, I'm not okay…and I'm sorry…I can't say more than that."

"That's fine," JJ insists, threading her fingers through his so that it has the beautiful contrast of an art piece in one of the Chicago museums. She lays her head on his shoulder and they stay like that until Strauss comes looking for them. Getting after them for their physical closeness.

"Song of Solomon talks about sex," JJ defends, and Derek knows it is as much to mask what they are each going through as it is because she loves to debate with Strauss. It gets her going. "You said, the other week… God designed sex and he wants us to enjoy it…" she squeezes Derek's hand, a signal to him that she will always be here for him, and to Strauss that they are close as can be.

"Within the context of a marriage." Strauss stresses. She is over-enunciating, which she does when she is losing her temper but does not want to let them know. "Do you want to turn out like Aaron Hotchner?" she hisses.

Derek's eyes flash dangerously. "Hotch did nothing wrong," he says in a sure, measured tone. He stands, and JJ takes the opportunity to pull him back toward the sanctuary. "He's taking care of family! I'm pretty sure that's in the Bible! Psalm 10:18 - 'You defend the fatherless and the oppressed, so that mere mortals may no longer terrorize them' - that's exactly what Hotch is doing!"

"Sean is not an orphan, Derek. He _has _a father."

Derek is about to really let Strauss have it, but JJ is dragging him into the sanctuary. She pushes through the door, to find Aaron and Sean on the other side, with Sean asleep on his shoulder.

"Don't worry about it, Derek," Aaron says lowly, nodding at them as they pass.

* * *

><p>Aaron has heard every word. It happens when Sean is forced to stay up past his 7:00 bedtime, because Aaron ends up walking him up and down the aisles the sanctuary, singing him the new Creole song they are learning in choir and listening in shock, as Sean repeats the words, with the correct accent.<p>

He knows Strauss does not understand or believe his situation. He doesn't expect her to, and he has learned not to let opinions based in misinformation bother him. He walks out of the sanctuary and to the couch that Derek and JJ just vacated. He pulls out Sean's favorite blanket and tucks it around him.

"Time for bed, okay, buddy?" he asks rhetorically.

"You stay with me," Sean demands, real fear in his eyes lurking beneath the defiance.

"You bet. I'm not leaving." Softly, Aaron begins the Haitian Noel again, because for some reason, the odd pronunciations and sound effects soothe his brother. After the month they've had, he needs to be reassured. They stayed at Emily's for a few hours the night in December, but returned home in time to hear their father in a tirade, throwing things and beating their mother. Aaron had taken a page from Emily and Penelope, and had sneaked into Sean's bedroom window, locking the door, wedging a rocking chair beneath the handle and moving the dresser in front of it.

The beating lasted long into the night. For the first time in a year, Aaron climbed into bed with Sean and held him. Not because Sean needed comfort - he was oblivious - but because Aaron did. The next day, the left through the window and drove to Emily's again.

Her home had become more a sanctuary than this church. She took in Penelope, who had no family, and didn't stop there. Emily has taken care of his bruises. She has taped his ribs. She makes them Italian breakfasts that Sean loves. She has even started leaving bags of clothing hanging on the inside knob of the guest room door, with a note inside that usually reads, "Penelope went shopping. My apologies. If you want to return anything just leave it in the bag and I'll take it back when I can and find you both something suitable. Em."

Just then, Emily materializes from nowhere. She doesn't say anything, just seamlessly joins in the carol and when they finish, says in a whisper, "I can take him."

* * *

><p>Penelope is trying hard to move past her bitterness toward Ashley. Having said that, it is no easy task. Ashley doesn't make a great adversary. She's young - just a baby in high school - she's clearly troubled. She's spent the last month in the hospital. Penelope learned this last bit a month ago, courtesy of the church bulletin asking for prayer requests. Nowhere had there been one for Penelope. Not that she would have wanted one anyway. That isn't the point.<p>

The point is, it's hard to stay mad at somebody like this, but Penelope can't help it. Every time she looks at her, Penelope sees that cop in her driveway saying he is so sorry. It makes her want to go all Buffy on her and beat her ass. Then, Penelope feels like a terrible person. The girl clearly needs help and she has gotten some, but it doesn't look like enough by half. Her eyes are sad and lost. She has gained some weight but her clothes still look huge on her little body. Plus, Ashley isn't even to blame. Not really.

Okay. And? The church seems hell-bent - excuse her for the non-churchy lingo - on making Ashley feel better. There are people in the congregation that go and minister to her dad in jail. They come back with stories of the miraculous progress Charles has made. Frankly, Penelope doesn't give a shit. The church is so busy helping the person who killed her parents and not one of them is thinking about Penelope. Well, no adults anyway. Emily is pretty much a sister now. Penelope has practically lived there for two months now. And Aaron, the stoic, has lent his adorable baby brother to Penelope whenever she needs to remember to play instead of feeling sad. That is pretty great.

Sucking up her fear and anger, Penelope is determined to take tonight's lesson on forgiveness to heart. She rises and takes a grand total of two steps toward Ashley before the younger girl retreats, looking like the devil himself is after her.

* * *

><p>Emily holds Sean and sings to him, while she talks to Aaron. It isn't hard, really. She is accomplished at multi-tasking. And she will do anything to hold a child. Her arms have ached and her lap has been empty for two long years. She knows there is no penance she can do that will bring her own baby back. She should not be forgiven. She was clearly unfit. But, God, she wishes somebody had told her before she made her decision that it would hurt like this. That she would grieve, but privately. That no one would be here to sympathize or understand when it was her own fault.<p>

She can see, like looking in a mirror, what it might be like for her with a two-year-old child at seventeen. She smiles slightly, remembering the days, in Penelope's grief when she assumed Emily was just fifteen. So untrue, but a correct observation all the same. She dressed in black all the time afterward. She likely appeared very much like her fifteen-year-old self earlier in the school year.

"So, Derek's family said they would watch Sean for me while we're in Chicago," Aaron speaks quietly, so as not to disturb Sean, who sleeps sprawled in Emily's arms.

"I'm happy for you," Emily replies genuinely, smiling. She has been hoping for some type of resolution that will result in Aaron being able to come on the trip. It would not be the same without him.

There is silence. They do not speak of home, because of the fact that it is, by nature, unspeakable. The vicious bruises and cuts on Aaron spoke volumes more than words ever could.

"Do you know the Morgan's well?" Emily asks.

"Not especially, but I trust them. Derek says his sister, Sarah has some sixth sense about people - including Scott - so that in and of itself makes me feel secure leaving Sean with them."

Emily eyes him, clearly skeptical.

"What?" he asks, defensively.

"Nothing," she replies, denying her impulse to tell him to be careful who he leaves his own brother with. This is his decision. Sean is not her child.

"I've met them, Emily. I've had dinner with them. They're good people," Aaron insists. And then, more softly, "I would never leave him with anyone I didn't trust completely," he leans toward her, as it's as if a magnet is pulling them toward each other.

"What about Haley?" Emily breathes. She knows about Haley Brooks because Haley makes sure everyone in Honor's English knows that she and Aaron are "going out."

But Aaron only whispers, "Haley, who?" and sears her lips with a kiss so powerful, Emily is grateful to be sitting down. Her knees go weak. Her mind goes blank, except for the child she holds.

She kisses him a little more, and then, gently pushes him away. "Slow," she cautions. "We can't get carried away."

"No, of course. You're right," Aaron says, straightening his shirt and sliding away from her. Just in time too, because just then, Strauss emerges from the sanctuary, ready to go home.

Emily is glad not to receive the teen parent lecture. She knows full well the consequences of having early sex.

More than anyone would guess.

* * *

><p>David guesses that Strauss probably felt guilty about blowing off his Christmas gift and actually giving it back. Because tonight, she tells him that she trusts him to lock up the church and set the break-in alarm on the church. He doesn't tell her that the gift had been a hit with his own mother at Christmas. He doesn't think it matters much.<p>

Only he and Penelope are still here now. He wishes she would leave. Dave has enough on his mind as it is. He hasn't moved from the pew all night. He has been praying for something - anything - to take away this guilt. Every night, he dreams of failing Penelope's parents. Every time he sees the scars on his forearms that he tells everyone are from a nonexistent gang fight, he feels sick inside.

It's been nearly four months. Dave doesn't know how much longer he can live like this. He can't even take up drinking to deal with it, knowing that's how Penelope's parents ended up dead.

He closes his eyes to shut out Penelope's sweet, gentle voice, singing Peter Paul and Mary's "If I Had a Hammer." Dave suspects it must have been a favorite of her parents. He remembers they had a love of tie-dye, flower power, and put together with their desire for their daughter to join the Peace Corps, Dave figures they had to be the coolest hippies in Minnesota. Probably the only, too.

Tears slip from his eyes and he ducks his head, trying to hide them. It's not that Penelope would care. He is pretty sure she would tell him to "let it out" and to get in touch with his emotions. But damn it, he doesn't like the way emotions make him feel! Especially the guilty ones. Somewhere, David knows that if Penelope notices his upset, she'll want to help, when he is the last person who deserves help.

"Oh, hey… I didn't imagine a Peter, Paul and Mary classic would inspire such sadness. I'm sorry," she says gently. She sits beside him and somehow, he can smell the sun in her hair, despite it being after midnight.

He shakes his head, silent. "It's not that," he wants to say, but his throat is thick and he can't swallow around the knot there.

"How can I help?" she asks, placing a hand on his arm. The scars are just there, beneath the sleeves, but she has no way of knowing. "Is there something I can do?"

Before he can stop them, the words tumble out. "I was there," he chokes out.

"You were where?" she asks, curious and kind.

"That night… The night of the accident… That afternoon, I saw it happen. It was already getting dark and I…I saw it…"

Penelope sits, possibly stunned. Possibly angry, but David will not lift his head to check. "You saw my parents' accident…" Penelope says slowly.

He nods. "I was there, and I tried, Penelope… I swear I tried to get them out. I got right up to the window. I said I was a friend of yours, but then… Then, it was too late."

"But they saw you?" Penelope asks, a strange insistence in her voice.

"Yes," he answers, finally daring to meet her eyes. "Penelope, I'm so sorry…"

Just then, her arms come around him. He sits very still, until he hears her whisper, "I know they suffered, and aside from escaping that torture, do you know the one thing I've prayed for four months straight?" she asks over his shoulder.

"No," he says.

"I prayed that they had some hope. I prayed that the last thing they saw wasn't fire or smoke but something good…and they had that," she says, pulling back.

Somehow, there is wonder in her eyes. Somehow, she is smiling, as the tears track down her cheeks.


	6. February 3, 1999

Spencer is trying to concentrate on writing letters to people for the trip to Chicago, coming up in seven weeks. He knows - because Erin Strauss has told him - that this is something he should have been working on for a while. The deadline for the money to be in is coming up fast. She has warned him repeatedly that if he does not raise the money, he will not be able to go. It is not much, compared to what he might have to turn in to travel outside the country. However, even a small amount of money is large for Spencer. Moreover, he can't get past the feeling that he is cheating. Spencer knows that there are millions of ways to make money, and if he were committed to helping other people, he would probably be able to raise the money for himself.

With his mother's frequent hospitalizations and staying with Erin, it's been difficult to keep up in school - much less to think about deceive people out of their money. One hundred-sixty dollars is a lot of money. He has never seen it all together in one place before. Multiplied by nine, the amount is dizzying. As a number, 1,440 is not overwhelming, but considering that all together, that is how much it will cost for all of them to travel to Chicago, to help people who have so much less… It doesn't seem right.

He gets a lump in his throat when his mother writes out a check at the last minute - in strained handwriting. The amount is paltry, but she is trying. She has written the check out wrong - to him, not the church, with his name in the memo. Nevertheless, it means something anyway. Spencer doesn't know why the financial side of the trip is so hard for him to reconcile, but it is.

Spencer knows his mother struggles to keep a roof over their heads. She isn't working. She is on disability payments, which is insufficient for one person - much less two - and yet, here she is, writing out a five-dollar check.

"I want you to have a good time. I want you to be able to go with your friends," she says, seeming clear-minded.

"You don't have to. I can write those letters to other people in the church…" he trails off.

Spencer knows deep in his heart that the reason he has not written the letters - in addition to his strenuous moral obligations - include the knowledge that seven of his friends are also asking for money from the church. In addition, in his mind, they all deserve to go more than Spencer does. He does not want to take away Ashley's opportunity, or Derek's, or anyone else's. He would be okay at home with his mom. Somebody needs to stay with her, anyway. She might be stable now, but there is no way of knowing if she will be at the end of next month.

He walks down the driveway, bundled against the cold, and checks the mail, hoping that there are no bills. Instead, what he finds is a single envelope, with labeled with his first name. Inside, he finds the exact amount of money he needs to go on the trip. He squints, scrutinizing the handwriting. The donor, obviously, wishes to remain anonymous, and judging by the writing itself, they are happy to do this for him. The truth is, he has seen it before.

The writing is Derek's.

* * *

><p>JJ cannot stop thinking about the letter that has come in the mail.<p>

It arrived last Thursday. From the Millers, who had taken Kaya after Janet died. JJ hadn't expected to hear from them. She had sent support letters out ages ago - to everyone in the church directory - and received more than her share of money and offers to pray for her while she was in Chicago. She turned in the appropriately written checks, and deposited those addressed simply to "Jennifer Jareau" - for her future. She hadn't heard a word from the Millers, and had not really expected to, so when the letter arrived, it was a shock.

JJ looks at it again. A single sheet of paper with one small, typed paragraph looms on the page. Against her will, JJ reads it again.

_Miss Jareau,_

_We have been pondering how to address the incredibly selfish letter we received from you. We received it sometime ago, and it has angered us considerably. How dare you ask us for money? We are already doing your family the biggest favor by raising your sister's child. How could you be so ungrateful as to ask for more than that? We have no obligation to you or your family, financially or otherwise. Please do not contact us again._

_The Millers_

It brings tears to her eyes. She feels as if she has been slapped in the face. She feels so ashamed. She, of course, never meant that they owed her anything. Their name was just in the directory with all the rest of the names. But the more JJ thinks about it, the more she considers that they might be right. What kind of girl keeps other people's money?

She asks her mother to drive her to the bank. Acts like she needs to take out money to buy new cleats - even though there is still snow on the ground - and instead withdraws the amount she deposited months ago. She refers to the list of people she has yet to write thank you notes to, and finds the ones with tiny stars by them, and the amounts they gave.

To each one, JJ writes a note of her own, thanking them, but letting them know that she has received more than enough financial support. She tells them she appreciates their prayers.

JJ wishes like hell that she can write a similar note to the Millers, but their wish had been that she not contact them again. So instead, she whispers her apology as she walks past their house on the way to youth group. She blows a kiss to her niece

"What's the matter with you?" Derek asks irritably, noting her somber mood.

"Nothing," she snaps back testily. "What's wrong with _you_?" she demands, noticing her friend's limp.

* * *

><p>The trip to Chicago is coming closer every day. Derek has managed to successfully raise his own money and enough for Spencer, too. Derek knows that his friends are good people, but that Penelope is farther on their radar than somebody like Spencer is. He can imagine them all getting together and making sure she has enough to make the trip, but Spencer… Nobody will think about him. They were just at church last week and Strauss let him have it because he hadn't even written support letters yet.<p>

Derek tries to imagine his life two years ago, and writing letters by choice. Letter writing is not a natural skill for him, and he imagines it might not be for Spencer, either. He's not the best at social stuff. Derek has a hunch that he hasn't written because he feels guilty asking others for what he was raised to work for. They are the same that way. Raised by single mothers, who worked as hard for as long as they could. This will not feel natural for Spencer. He won't know what to say.

That's why Derek does what he does. That's why he lies his ass off to Carl.

"I need somethin' from you…" he says knowing even as he says it, what it will cost.

"You can't get somethin' for nothin', Derek," Carl answers, a strange glint in his eye.

"There's this church trip. To Chicago. We need a hundred sixty dollars to go and I don't have it…" Derek says plainly. He has _his _money turned in already. Spencer doesn't.

"One hundred sixty dollars…" Carl muses seriously, though Derek is positive he probably has the money on him as they speak. "That's a lot of money. It's gonna cost you."

"Yes, sir," Derek nods. And he spends the next week in hell. He tells himself that he is doing what is right. That money shouldn't come from nowhere. That he is doing what a man does, working for it. It doesn't occur to him to ask his friends to each request slightly more than they need. That does not feel right either. This is the only way Derek can think of to do what needs to be done.

But it is worth it when he drops that envelope off with the hundred, and three twenties inside, he tells himself that this pain will fade. That this is worth it, if it means giving Spencer the opportunity to get out of here for a week and spend time focusing on other things.

Derek knows what a gift he's giving. That's why he never hesitated to do this for his friend.

* * *

><p>Aaron wonders who has put the bug in Strauss's ear about putting <em>him <em>in charge of Dave, Derek and Spencer on the Chicago trip. He has never asked for this. In fact, he has been looking forward to having a little breathing room for a week, now that Sarah Morgan has agreed to take Sean for him.

Needless to say, it doesn't appear to be a possibility now.

"I would do it myself," Strauss confides apologetically, "but I need to chaperone the girls. I was going to ask my husband, but someone needs to take care of the children…"

He wonders if she is aware of the subtle pressure she is laying to bear on him. She's not an easy woman to say no to. It's not fair, but life is generally not a fair thing. He knows this, more than most.

"How am I supposed to tell Dave that I'm in charge?" Aaron asks skeptically. "Don't you think he'll be offended that you didn't ask him?"

"I need a mature, responsible person to make sure everything goes smoothly. We'll be in a church - same physical location - just different sides. If you need me, just yell."

"That's not an answer. He's not going to like that I'm in charge. It's creating conflict where there wasn't any before… I just don't understand how this is what's best for the group."

"It's what's best for the group because both boys and girls need chaperones or this trip isn't going to work without them," she says seriously.

The pressure isn't subtle any longer but obvious and heavy. Aaron knows that if he doesn't agree, he will not be allowed to go, and neither will Derek, Spencer or Dave. That's not right. He'll turn eighteen in seven months. Might as well continue the trend of taking on more than he is ready for.

He's been doing it all his life.

Aaron wonders if Strauss would be as willing to put him in the position of authority if he removed his shirt and showed her the scars and bruises that mar his skin right now. "I can't look out for myself," he would say, "and you want me to look out for three other guys, too?"

It doesn't make sense. It angers him beyond what seems rational.

So, Aaron walks away before his own temper flares and he becomes more like his own father than he has ever wanted to be. He picks up Sean, taking him from Penelope, and hurrying out into the night.

He takes deep breaths and tries to calm down, but Sean is crying because Aaron took him away from a game of hide and seek with Emily, and Aaron can't take it. He rushes back inside, and pushes Sean back into her arms.

"Watch him, please…" he says, his tone clipped.

"Of course," Emily says. He can see concern in her eyes and does not want to deal with it. "I'm fine!" he snaps. "Just watch him!"

* * *

><p>"Aaron! Stop!" Penelope calls when she sees him striding purposely toward his car parked in the icy lot, keys clutched in his right hand.<p>

Penelope doesn't think. She runs after Aaron and catches his arm. He throws her hand off his arm, but not before Penelope registered the wince that crossed his face.

She forgets for a second that she feels an anxiety attack coming on. She forgets that she is trying to stop Aaron from making the same mistake her parents made by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She forgets everything.

"What's with the wincing? Are you okay?" she asks.

"I just wanted _one thing_! Just this one thing and I didn't think it was too much to ask! But, who am I kidding? Of course it is!"

"What did you want?" she asks gently, not forgetting for a second the fact that he is a swift-dodger of questions he does not want to answer.

"Time! Time to hang out with people my own age without having to baby-sit anyone!" He is clearly angry, running his hands through his hair, and trekking through the snow with little more than dressy black shoes, khaki pants and a gray sweater. No jacket. No boots. Not even in the chilly February parking lot covered with snow.

"Who do you have to baby-sit?" she asks gently.

For some reason, this question brings a mental image of Emily to mind. The way she'd looked when she told Emily that she'd have to tell Strauss she couldn't come on the trip. There was no money. Most days, too, it was a struggle to convince herself to get out of bed. Writing a hundred sixty dollars worth of letters was nothing short of a daunting feat.

"It's taken care of," Emily had said simply, refusing to say anymore.

"Who do you have to baby-sit?" Penelope presses gently. "I'll take care of it."

"You can't," he insists, breathless. "Strauss needs a chaperone for the guys in Chicago, and can't find one. So she nominated me."

"Well, you can't chaperone," she says matter-of-factly. She isn't even put off by the way he glares at her. "What? You can't. A chaperone has to be eighteen. If my memory serves, you're several months away from that. I, however, am the perfect age for such an endeavor," she smiles proudly, even as the wind freezes her cheeks.

"Thanks, Penelope, but you also happen to be the wrong gender. She needs a guy. And her choice is me or David."

Penelope makes a noise of disgust. "I see your point." She stops, thinking for a minute. "Okay. Here's something. How about if you start having some sort of trouble with the hooligans you can let me know and I'll come set them straight? I'll take any opportunity to make Derek Morgan smile."

"I could name several people who would say the same of you," he says calmly. And just like that, he walks back inside like this wasn't one of the strangest and most honest conversations she has ever had.

When she looks again, she finds that Aaron has stopped short and is considering the night sky full of stars, as if they might hold answers for him.

* * *

><p>The kiss remains seared on Emily's consciousness as the single loveliest thing that has happened to her in America. Penelope's friendship is wonderful, too, but seeing Aaron so obviously upset has an entirely inappropriate affect on her. She finds herself making a concerted effort to pay attention to the crying child in her arms and not to glance after Aaron, as he heads for the parking lot with Penelope in tow.<p>

She isn't even sufficiently distracted by Penelope's tawdry wardrobe. The earrings that resemble aliens or children. The green scarf with scales - that reminds Emily too much of poisonous snakes - coiled around Penelope's neck. Not even that has the power to take away Aaron Hotchner's affect on Emily. Pretty soon, she has to physically turn herself away from the door they exited.

She walks Sean slowly down the stairs to stand by the soda machine. Emily distracts him by counting the flavors of soda inside and asking which his favorite kind is.

"Not have it…" he sobs.

Taking the clue, Emily decides to try something else - anything else - but cannot think straight. She doesn't know how she will be of any value serving others when all she can think of is a high school crush. It's frivolous and very unlike herself. Or rather - it is too much like her old self. She has had to work to keep this part of herself at bay. It is the last thing she wants to be the girl who is so desperate for attention, like Ashley. She wants to be comfortable with herself, but she isn't.

She adjusts Sean on her hip and tries singing him Italian lullabies but none soothe him. He shocks her by saying the name of their Haitian Christmas carol in Creole.

"Sing it," he adds sadly.

So, Emily does, thinking it a little odd that she should be able to sing this foreign song with no trouble, but had needed a true refresher in American Christmas songs before the choir class went caroling before the winter break. Luckily for her, Penelope was there, as always, to run Joy to the World, Silent Night, Away in a Manger and countless others. It had not taken long for them to sound familiar again. And when Emily forgot the words, she simply hummed, or made them up. When Hark the Herald Angels Sing became suddenly a mystery, she ad-libbed, making Penelope laugh like Emily had not heard since before she knew her well.

"Oh, Penelope's loathsome dress!

Oh what a confounding mess!"

It _was _an awful dress - more akin to a nightgown than a dress - red and green plaid, with ruffles. Emily thought wryly that it deserved what it got. They sang and walked along, until the director caught wind of her improvisations and asked her to please, stop, because they were distracting.

Though Penelope had joined her in the laughter, Emily set out to make sure it was not simply out of Minnesotan politeness that she went along.

"No," Penelope had managed, tears streaming down her cheeks. "No, it made my day."

* * *

><p>Dave is prepared to get the hell out of here when Strauss pulls him aside and nearly stops his heart with her request.<p>

"David? I need to speak with you. Could you come with me, please?

The last time he stayed late here he ended up way too emotional and feeling like he was back in Long Island, making confession for countless sins. It's not something he wants to repeat, even if the priest was every bit as forgiving as Penelope, telling him to go in peace. But this isn't a Catholic priest, and it isn't Penelope. This is Strauss. He will do anything for Strauss.

"Sure," he replies, feigning total nonchalance. He walks with her back into the sanctuary and sits in a pew she picks. "What's up? What'd I do this time?" he asks, offering her a beguiling smile.

He is even ready to take the heat if she has found out that he had gotten a hold of all the tracts outside the sanctuary from the 70s and wrote funny stuff next to the ridiculous diagrams and sayings. He's particularly fond of the one intended for Catholics, entitled, "I Don't Think About It Very Much" discussing salvation. For that one, Dave wrote in the truth as he saw it. They thought about it. Probably more than non-denominationalists who believed that the devil was behind rock music.

His other favorite is, of course, the rock music pamphlet that details the hidden messages of Satan in rock music. Dave had a ball, drawing a happy little devil, singing a tune. It was detailed with all kinds of music notes, a treble and bass clef, some rests. His devil was whistling a happy tune at the top corner of the page, while at the bottom, a boom box blasted Aerosmith's I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing from the movie, Armageddon. It was ironic, and just a little stroke of genius, if you asked Dave.

All the pamphlets were decorated according to whatever Dave saw fit, and lined up in their neat stacks again. So far, there hasn't been a word spoken about them, but Dave wouldn't be surprised if Strauss was the one to discover what he's done. She is so attentive.

"I need a favor…" she begins. Her eyes are a strange, dazzling shade of blue when she is apologetic.

"Anything," he breathes, leaning forward.

"I don't have a chaperone for you boys on the Chicago trip-" Strauss begins and Dave cuts her off.

"Oh! Say no more! I'll take care of 'em! I'll keep 'em right in line for you!" he promises. "Scout's honor!"

"David, I'm putting a great deal of faith in you. Don't let me down."

"You have my word," he says solemnly. "I'll keep an eye on 'em. Count 'em. Carry heavy bags. Whatever you need me to do."

* * *

><p>Ashley's invited Spencer over after church. It's just easier that way. Penelope and Emily drove them both home, after they stopped off at Chipotle's and got burritos the size of small infants. The size turned Ashley's stomach and made her glad she has actually been doing well at eating. She didn't need to give Spencer an excuse to have her eat one of those nasty things.<p>

She is nervous about Chicago, though. It's all about food, there. Old Chicago pizza and tons of greasy stuff, probably, too. It isn't what she wants to focus on, and Ashley does her best to stop. She takes a deep breath and tries to listen to Spencer, who is lying on her bedroom carpet, telling her the history of dream-catchers, because he's noticed the one she's had on her wall since the fifth grade, when they studied Native American culture.

"Are you excited about the trip?" she asks, trying to halt his intense flow of facts that she doesn't care about.

"Very excited," he confirms. "In fact, it seems that the fates are smiling down on me today-"

"God… No more Shakespeare, please… We're reading Romeo & Juliet in English… Boring, city…" Ashley groans. "Give me Leonardo DiCaprio as Romeo any day. Then I can at least have fun looking at him and ignore the plot."

"Actually, Shakespearian language is quite beautiful-"

"Spencer, please? I don't want a lecture on why Shakespeare is awesome, I just want to know why the fates are smiling on you," she demands. She doesn't mean to be rude, but sometimes, with Spencer, she has to be direct.

"Oh, right. I just so happened to receive an envelope in the mail today…with…" he drags out the sentence mysteriously, in a way Ashley hates. "The precise amount of money needed for the trip to Chicago!" he finishes.

"Wait. You're telling me you didn't have anything raised before tonight?" Ashley asks, shocked.

"No, I had five dollars raised," he says honestly.

She rolls her eyes. "You'd better be way grateful that the fates decided to smile on you. Otherwise we'd be at home for spring break."

"We?" he asks honestly confused.

"Yeah. There's no way I'm going with a bunch of people who hate my guts and not one who's on my side," she says quietly.

"Is it strange not having your dad here?" he asks.

"More like a strange relief," Ashley clarifies. "It was always really stressful with him here…but I feel terrible saying that. In order to go to jail, he took two lives… I still can't believe it. Makes me sick to my stomach…" Ashley admits.

"It was strange when my dad left two years ago, too. He left a note for me that explained everything, and I still read it over and over for some clue."

"Some clue to what?" Ashley wonders, her brow furrowed.

"What I had done to make him want to go…" Spencer finishes softly, studying the fibers of Ashley's pink carpeting.

She sighs. "Yeah, sometimes notes don't mean shit."

Spencer reaches into his pocket where he's kept Derek's envelope - the money now safely at church - and unfolds it. "Yes. You're right. Words aren't what matter in the end. It's action that means everything."


	7. March 28, 1999

JJ has to admit, she thought the seven-hour ride to Chicago would be long and irritating, but so far, it's not so bad. They had to show up at church an hour early, with their luggage, for a meeting. So JJ had stopped by Derek's and pounded on his door. She'd been surprised to see the door swing open, and have Sarah invite her inside, bouncing Sean on her hip. JJ was told Derek and Aaron were asleep in the family room.

JJ had made it her mission to wake up the guys in the best way possible. So, she had run in and announced loudly that it was "Chicago Day!" and they had better get up and get a move on. Neither of them looked too happy with her method of a wake-up call. But JJ didn't care. On Sarah's insistence, she sat down and had some Fruity Pebbles with Sean before they left for church.

Church, of course, had lasted two long hours. When JJ factored in the time it took for everyone to pray them on their way afterward, it was noon before they were on the road.

Now, though, they are on their way. JJ is lounging in wind pants and an Old Navy shirt and hat. The hat is new - a tan one that she bought just for the trip. Of course, she also has her dark green winter jacket, and is bundled up against the weather. It's still cold even though it's the end of March.

"Come on, guys! Sing along!" Strauss is insisting. She has busted out her Millennium Worship tape and has been demanding audience participation since they left. JJ is so happy, she can't even roll her eyes. Behind her, Aaron, Emily and Penelope have been singing in amazing three-part harmony for at least five songs now. She tries to join in, but quietly, since she isn't as skilled in harmony as they are. She tries to join in with Penelope's line first and then Emily's. Finally, JJ hears a harmony all her own and joins in louder.

She looks beside her at Derek, who has his walkman on. She knows him well enough to know that he is listening to Christian rap or worship music, just like they are. He's just been in a crappy mood since she woke him up this morning. He won't even look at her - just out the window at the scenery - which is totally boring.

Ahead of her, Ashley and Spencer are engaged in some kind of quiet conversation. JJ's thoughts drop off abruptly as she hears Penelope's sweet soprano voice singing about how God has come to comfort all who mourn. The song is Prepare The Way and JJ doesn't know it, but she joins in. Aaron's got the main chorus and Emily, Penelope and now JJ are echoing it back to him.

Ashley turns around and stares, unashamed. When JJ turns to look back, Ashley softly tells her, "You have such a good voice!"

"Not really," JJ denies. She knows that she is just okay. She's only in the treble choir, which is midway between the varsity - for freshman and kids who slack - and concert choir - for the upperclassmen with talent - like Aaron, Emily and Penelope. JJ literally dreams of the day when she auditions for it. She is already hoping that she doesn't majorly screw up, and will be allowed in as a junior. She doesn't want to make it there by default as a senior.

She closes her eyes and softly sings the lines of the current song, trying to block out the fact that Ashley is probably listening in.

* * *

><p>They have been on the road for two hours, and they hit traffic about 45 minutes in. There are cars in ditches. The roads are icy. Derek's walkman has been a great way to block everyone out and pretend that he can't hear a word they're saying. Really, though, there's nothing playing. He's listening to the same music they are, and trying not to join in.<p>

The soulful piano that starts has almost too great a pull on him, though. He doesn't know every word, but he starts humming. When JJ joins in suddenly, Derek is surprised. The two of them sing the chorus softly with one another, kind of messing up lyrics, until they get to the three words they definitely know, "Redeemer, Savior, Friend." Finally, Derek can't hold back and sings out, loud and strong, loving the song's gospel feeling.

Spencer whips around in the seat ahead of him, to stare, open-mouthed, but Derek doesn't care. He needs this. God, he needs this. Last night, he slipped out of the house about two in the morning and rode his bike to the community center. Carl was waiting there, wanting to say goodbye.

This is why Derek is sore beyond belief today. This is why he is nervous about a seven-hour trip. He has done what he can to take care of himself, but isn't sure if it will be enough. He brought Tylenol along for pain, and he had to steal from his mama - or his sisters - he isn't sure who. But it's the only way he can think of to stop what's happening to him. To stop it from being noticed. But in order to keep it quiet, he needs to stop frequently. Derek can see from the traffic that they most likely won't be stopping often enough. He closes his eyes. He prays for some kind of divine intervention to stop this.

But it doesn't come.

He looks out the window, knowing nothing's changed. He's still sore as hell. Still bleeding. Still drowning in a feeling of shame so strong that it threatens to pull him under. Derek can't help but listen in as Penelope, Emily and Hotch sing along, praising God and sounding so happy to be going where they're going.

If someone were to look deeply at Derek - at his motives - they would see reluctance. They would see a desire to simply disappear. His eyes fill, briefly, making Derek glad he is facing away from everyone. He takes a deep breath, pushing down the feelings. He's determined to make it through this.

He has a week without Carl. Derek isn't stupid enough not to recognize this as an answer to prayer.

Maybe, this will be the saving grace he needs to tell someone what's happening. But no. He can't say anything. Otherwise he'll lose everything.

* * *

><p>Aaron is pretty sure this is what the seventh circle of hell feels like. Just his luck that Dave - riding shotgun with Strauss - started whining about a lack of cool music.<p>

"You know, I think I _do _have something you would enjoy!" Strauss had said, ejecting a tape from the deck and selecting another. She had pushed it in with a strained smile, which Aaron suspected had more to do with the traffic than it did David's discontent with the music.

Now, they were all suffering through Plus One. It's the latest fad - a Christian boy band - and Aaron isn't even a fan of secular boy bands. Dave has gotten really into this music, and is even singing along to songs like Soul Tattoo. It's not that he has an appalling voice, it's just that the music is not something that any of them find "cool." Even Spencer is requesting Beethoven.

To block them out, Aaron tries to imagine what Sean is doing with Sarah today. It's unbelievably calming to know that his little brother is being cared for by someone other than Aaron himself, and that she is gentle and competent as Emily, and as fierce and protective as her brother, Derek.

Something appears to be off with Derek. But there is no way to tell precisely what it is. He is quiet and withdrawn. The only time Aaron has heard any sound from him was during one of the songs on the previous tape. Aaron figures that with his new job as appointed baby-sitter of the boys, it will be his responsibility to deal with sullen teenagers.

Aaron regrets this as soon as the thought crosses his mind. Derek is, by nature, not a sullen person. If he is acting this way, Aaron knows there must be a reason. He just wishes it wasn't his responsibility to take care of it.

He tries to breathe and simply concentrate on what is happening now. He's with friends. He's got a whole week away from home. Sean is safe. It's all Aaron could ask for. So, even though there is no way he will join Dave in the sing-along, Aaron is content to sit beside Emily and enjoy the feeling of her hand in his.

This will be an amazing trip. Aaron leans back and sighs, looking out the window at the falling snow. He doesn't care if it takes the rest of their lives to get where they are going. If it means Aaron will feel like this, then he is all for it.

* * *

><p>Penelope is feeling more than a little queasy but she is in denial about it. She doesn't want to ruin the beauty of this ride. The wonderful camaraderie between the three of them in the back seat with the horrible stench of vomit. It's pretty unclassy to stink up the van, so Penelope tells herself she won't give into it.<p>

But, God, they've been driving their requisite seven hours and they are not yet where they should be. She is dizzy and sweating, despite the freezing conditions. She wishes they all could have flown. That would make her life so much more bearable.

"Are you all right?" Emily whispers.

Penelope was about to say she is fine, when she goes brutally hot, and then icy cold. Then, all bets are off. She leans forward to get rid of the growing nausea, shocked when Emily catches it in outstretched hands. If Penelope didn't know any better, she would have assumed Em was a mother or something. Penelope can remember her own mother doing the exact same, revolting thing when Penelope was a child and sick after dance class.

"Oh, man…" Derek moans ahead of them. Penelope wants to tell him to shut his pretty mouth, but that isn't a possibility right now. So she settles for letting her eyes water and her nose run sympathetically.

Meanwhile, Aaron has lunged over the back seat, with just his legs visible. Penelope can tell - based on the various sounds - that he is fighting with their massive cooler, to retrieve a Sprite or a Gingerale for her sick stomach.

"Aaron?" Spencer calls, apparently oblivious to retching. "Can you get us some sandwiches while you're back there. And fruit. Oh, and some granola bars and bottled water?"

"Spencer, I'm a little preoccupied at the moment. Can you wait?" Aaron says. The top half of him is still obscured behind the seat.

"Of course, I can wait," Spencer says sounding offended.

Sometimes, Penelope forgets that he is only twelve and so literal that he understands almost zero of her sarcasm. It usually makes her sad, but right now, she is feeling pathetic and sorry for throwing up on her dearest friend.

Aaron emerges, with a can of Sprite, a plastic bag, a roll of paper towels and a bottle of water. He sets the Sprite and the water on the seat beside him and starts wetting the paper towels with the water.

"We're going to need to pull over," he calls to the front of the van.

"I'm fine," she moans like an animal in the throes of labor. She is most definitely not fine. Her winter parka is ruined. The only jeans that don't cut into her waist after she washes them are no longer a feasible wardrobe option.

Emily looks worse, but is admirably silent, and somehow, still whispering words of quiet reassurance to Penelope.

The only thing she is grateful for, is that no one will know her wherever they end up stopping.

* * *

><p>For the first time, Emily can conceive how it might feel to have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. It is the fourth time she has washed her hands in the dirty rest stop sink, and they somehow still do not feel clean.<p>

She had not thought, just reacted, trying to save Penelope's clothes, and Erin's car from certain destruction. Contrary to popular belief, Emily does not have a stomach of steel, and she is trying to calm her own with deep breathing, but that does little good when the rancid smell is stuck permanently in her nostrils. She would do nearly anything to be Spencer and his impervious sense of smell. The only thing stopping her from actually being sick is the knowledge of how revolting she will feel afterward.

Just like that, Emily is transported back in her mind. She is in Rome. She is in tremendous pain and that awful sound won't stop. After the procedure, Emily recalls being violently ill. Matthew had taken care of her. He hadn't shunned her or told her she and her child would spend eternity in hell.

No one at church knew this part of her life, thank God. Not even Penelope. She has not trusted anyone with this bit of knowledge because it is too painful to share, and because she believes fully that it is something she should carry alone. If she was too much of a coward to carry her own child, then she should carry this.

She has heard, of course, people at this church talking. She knows there are strongly held beliefs about abortion. Most here believe what the church in Rome believed. A fetus is a child - a human life - from the moment of conception. So, as a frightened fifteen-year-old, she had committed murder, and deserves the highest consequence.

Though she has been told there is redemption available for everyone, Emily doubts the same is true for her. No matter how many times she hears that every sin is viewed equally, she cannot shake the feeling that she has committed a greater wrong, and therefore, deserves a greater punishment. She does not deserve salvation. So she does not dare ask for it.

Emily gives her hands a final washing, knowing that they will never truly be clean, and then rejoins her friends in the van. Penelope is trying to sleep off her sick stomach. Aaron is busily scrubbing ruined upholstery with paper towels and water. Spencer and Ashley, amazingly, are eating. Derek is looking out the window, as he has been the entire trip. JJ is asleep, or feigning sleep. David is busy being a terrible backseat driver, and Erin is cursing the traffic softly, when she thinks no one is listening.

Staring down at her hands, Emily analyzes the creases of her palms and wonders if she is destined to live a long life, suffering. Or a short life, suffering still. She wonders which she would prefer.

She wonders if she will see her baby wherever she goes from here.

* * *

><p>Dave has never been more relieved to be riding shotgun than he is now. He's not only beside his one true love, but farthest away from the stench in the back. It makes him endlessly glad that he is only responsible for the guys not the girls. He can't handle vomit.<p>

He is trying to read a map, but it is too dark to see much of anything. Strauss is stressed and Dave is doing his best to lighten the mood.

"I think it's probably better to get there alive and late than dead and on time." He stops abruptly, checking the rearview mirror to be sure Penelope has not overheard him shove his foot in his mouth. Luckily she is sleeping. Ashley, though, looks like she might be fighting tears.

Dave hadn't meant it like that. He just meant Strauss shouldn't be so worried about arriving late. Still, Dave can see the damage he's inadvertently caused and he wishes he could take it back. He, of all people, should know better than to say shit like that. He was there, wasn't he? He stood there, helpless, while fire consumed Penelope's parents?

He makes a decision then, and focuses all his energy on helping Strauss get to their destination. When they arrive, finally, five hours later than planned, it's midnight. Everyone is sleeping. Scratch that. Derek's still awake.

"Wanna help me carry stuff in?" Dave asks. Silently, Derek takes two bags and slings one over each shoulder. He walks into the church where they are staying, like he owns it.

It doesn't take too long to unload, and Dave is beyond grateful to be out of that van. Twelve hours sitting beside Strauss has shown him that even the best people in the world have their faults.

Once inside, he takes charge, loving the feeling of authority. Strauss tells him that the guys will sleep in an adjoining room, with a sliding glass door. The girls will sleep in the sanctuary. This room reminds him of the parenting room back at their own church.

"Okay, boys," he says, rubbing his hands together and grinning, "_This _is the parenting room, and you're here because you need _parenting_. Feel free to call me Dad, or Pop or King of the Universe. The ladies are out in the sanctuary because they are already holy and all," Dave waves a hand dismissively toward the glass doors.

"King of the Universe is God…moron…" Derek adds the last word under his breath and Dave lets it slide.

"What are you doing?" Hotch asks in a hush. "I've got this. Just go to bed. They'll be fine."

"Cute, Hotch. But Strauss already gave me the 411. I am what they call a _chaperone_," Dave says condescendingly.

"What? Strauss asked _me _to chaperone!"

"That's not likely, considering you're not even a legal adult yet. Like…me…" Dave finishes, still smug.

God, he loves being in charge.

* * *

><p>Ashley can feel the peanut butter sandwich sitting in her gut, along with everything else she ate today. Even though it's been a few months, she hasn't been able to get used to the feeling of eating three meals a day. The only thing keeping her on this track is the knowledge that Spencer has promised to "report" her and do everything in his power to be sure she goes back to treatment.<p>

On the positive side, she is now as close to Jennifer as she has been, ever. She moved her sleeping bag next to hers because there's an empty space. They are sleeping in a line. Emily, then Penelope, then Jennifer, then Ashley. Erin Strauss is a little distance away. She said it was to give them privacy, but Ashley knows an adult who's sick of teenagers when she sees one.

"Are you still awake?" she whispers to Jennifer. Ashley tried calling her JJ once, in the van, on the way here, and she had nearly gotten her head taken off. Only her _friends _called her JJ. Did Ashley get it?

"What do you want?" Jennifer whispers irritably.

"Just…" Ashley searches her tired brain. What did she want? "Maybe we can hang out sometime? When we have some downtime or whatever?"

"Yeah, maybe…" Jennifer says, not sounding convinced at all.

There is nothing but silence around her, and Ashley wishes that they didn't have to be separated, boys and girls. She counted on hanging out with Spencer, and now, she'll risk getting sent home if she violates the parting of the genders. So, she stays put. She wonders if Andrew is okay. He promised her he would be, but she knows he would say anything to see her have the chance to be happy.

She had thought she would be, too. But now she is not so sure. Now that she's spent twelve hours in close quarters with Penelope, and heard one remark too many from David… She is not so sure she should be here. She feels like an outsider here. Like, everyone else has a place on this team, and she doesn't. Come to think of it, Ashley doesn't know what she is doing here in the first place.

It doesn't take long for her thoughts to turn dark. Ashley thinks about her previous choices in moments like these. She checks in with herself. Is she hungry? Angry? Lonely? Tired? No, no, yes and yes. Ashley tries to think of how to remedy this without pissing anyone off. Nothing comes to her. So, she simply clutches the inside of her sleeping bag and prays for sleep. It comes, but not soon enough. Her dreams are strange and vivid. She jerks awake several times, unsure of where she is.

She wishes she were anywhere but here.

She wishes someone, somewhere would wake up, and just sit with her. Ashley doesn't want much, really. Just someone to be here with her. Just someone to think of her.

* * *

><p>Spencer lies awake. He cannot stop thinking of the darkness here and of Ashley. He hadn't really thought deeply on the matter of where they would be sleeping, or that it would be segregated. Or that it would be quite so ominously dark. Ironically, he had been intensely tired before actually arriving here. Then, Aaron and David almost had a fight about who was in charge, and Spencer was wide-awake, watching in rapt fascination. He had never seen two people who so badly wanted to be in charge before. He had never seen one person with quite as strong a desire. His father was always too busy for him and his mother? Well, she tries, but it's all she can do most days to remember to get dressed and eat, much less look after Spencer.<p>

This entire excursion is a big adventure. Honestly, Spencer has never been anywhere. He is originally from Las Vegas, but moved to the Midwest when he was too little to have any conscious memory of it happening. Therefore, Minnesota is all he knows. So he paid a lot of attention to the scenery as they passed through different states. He wrote copious notes in a journal for future reference. When Ashley got bored, she showed him how to play the alphabet game, which had the potential to be quite boring, if played with anyone but Ashley. Luckily, while taking turns looking for things that started with a subsequent letter of the alphabet was hilarious when Ashley kept spotting toilets and socks outside in scattered locations. Then, it became a test to see whom could make whom laugh the hardest.

The game had come to a screeching halt when Penelope got sick, mostly because it bothered Ashley. Spencer felt bad about it, of course, but he didn't see what the big deal was. People got sick. But then his mind had started working and he wondered if Penelope was really motion-sick as she claimed, or if the sight of countless cars in the ditch was too much for her psychologically and her body was reacting to the stress. He pondered the question and then posed it to Ashley, who got more pale than usual and demanded that he not ask her that question.

Again, Spencer was at a loss. He didn't understand why it was wrong to ask about something he was genuinely curious about. So, he asked for food for himself and Ashley instead. So far, Ashley has been doing fantastic. Eating what she should. Not dragging it out too long, or engaging in any kind of disordered behavior. He'd meant to tell her he thought she was doing excellently well, but, then there was the puke, and the subsequent stop to get not only Penelope, but also Emily cleaned up. Spencer stayed in the van and listened, captivated, as Erin Strauss cursed about traffic and parenting.

"We're not her children, though. Why is she mad at us?" he'd asked Ashley.

"She's not mad at us, she's just mad at the situation, Ashley had clarified but it hadn't helped much. Being angry at a situation didn't change anything.

Spencer knows that more than most.


	8. March 29, 1999

Spencer is awake before anyone else. It's habit, more than anything else. He wakes up several times a night, on high alert, and therefore can't sleep in even if he wants to. He yawns and rubs his eyes. It's not even six o'clock yet. He glances around once and then thinks better of it and puts on his glasses. Spencer finds himself staring at Derek's abandoned green and gray sleeping bag. It's in a ball, which is not the natural position, especially if Derek intends to come back to it. Aaron and David are still sleeping soundly.

Preparing to investigate his new surroundings, Spencer sets out on a quest. His mission? To locate the facilities. Lucky for him, the bathroom is not hard to find. He is pushing the door from the outside when - all of a sudden - the door gives mightily. Spencer falls gracelessly into the bathroom, and Derek steps over him, like a careless sleepwalker.

Shaking his head, Spencer rights himself and heads inside to relieve himself. He is drying his hands when he sees it, obvious in all its contrast to the brown paper towels. Spencer squints. He has never seen a used one before, but this is definitely the genuine article: a feminine napkin.

The door is clearly labeled with the word _Men_, as well as diagram for non-readers. The chance of one of their female companions making a wrong turn _and_ completely missing the line of urinals once inside is highly unlikely. Spencer stares, unashamed, at the foreign item. Then, his mind begins to work. The blood appears fresh. Derek was the last person to exit this restroom. His sleeping bag was in disarray, too.

Spencer doesn't waste another second, he yanks open the door and starts to run for the parenting room. "Derek," he whispers frantically. "There's a _feminine napkin_ in the men's room! A _used _one," he persists. He isn't sure whether to be in awe, or horrified.

"Kid, this is Chicago. You're gonna see some weird shit. Get used to it," Morgan mumbles quietly. He does not look Spencer in the eye. In fact, his entire body is facing away from Spencer as he rolls his sleeping bag back up.

"But we're the only ones here," Spencer points out. "The blood's fresh. You were the last one in there."

This gets Derek's attention. He turns very slowly. His eyes are so dark they are nearly black. "Stay out of it."

Spencer concentrates on Derek's choice of words. Very slowly, he tries to assemble the pieces of what he knows into some logical order. "Wait…are you like…Ellen DeGeneres?" he asks softly, incredulous. "I saw her on the cover of TIME magazine two years ago!" Spencer adds when Derek's eyes flash dangerously.

"Ellen DeGeneres is a _lesbian_," Derek says, stressing the new word for Spencer's benefit. "She's a lady attracted to other ladies. She's not a man. I'm not a woman. Let it go."

"But-"

"Spencer, I swear to God. Don't push this. Don't say a word about this. Or you'll wish you hadn't."

* * *

><p>"Why do you have a picture of Rachel Miller?"<p>

JJ stops, midway through brushing her hair, at Strauss's question. She glances down to see her own mistake. She forgot to keep the picture hidden. Forgot that seeing her with a picture of someone else's little girl might raise questions that JJ isn't ready to answer.

"What picture?" Ashley asks, looking over JJ's shoulder. "Oh! She's so cute! I love watching her during church. You know, she gave me the same picture once, right after the family got their picture taken for the church directory. I didn't know what to do with it, so I just left it somewhere where I thought the family might see it. She must've done the same for you, huh?" Ashley asks.

JJ is stunned. Prior to this, the had been convinced that she and she alone was a world-class liar. Now, it's clear that honor should go to someone else. Ashley clearly has more skill than JJ has given her credit for.

"Yeah… Yeah…that's exactly it," JJ agrees, knowing an out when she sees one.

When Strauss's curiosity is satisfied and she is out of earshot, JJ manages to thank Ashley. A little. "You didn't have to do that…" she says, embarrassed.

"No big deal," Ashley shrugs.

JJ is shocked when Ashley doesn't ask for details. "No. Really. Why did you do that? I've never done anything to help you out…" JJ lowers her voice to keep from being overheard by Penelope and Emily, who are finally stirring.

"I wouldn't want her in my business. Figured you'd want the same." Ashley doesn't meet her gaze.

JJ can't help it. The thought is in her head before she can censor it. She wonders if Ashley did what she did not as a favor, but because she wants something in return. JJ wonders what she owes the girl who is the flip side of her own coin. Tails to JJ's heads. If JJ had made just a few choices differently in her life, she could _be _Ashley right now. Struggling with her own self-image and self-worth. It isn't a comforting thought. Still, she figures she'd better get the formality out of the way so it isn't hanging over her head the whole trip.

"So, what do I owe you for covering for me?" JJ asks.

Ashley blinks. She looks honestly stunned and JJ applauds her skill silently.

"Nothing," she manages. "That wasn't an IOU."

Now JJ is confused. "Okay…" she says, dragging out the word. She isn't entirely convinced. Still, more of JJ than she wants to admit believes Ashley. It's an unsettling feeling, and JJ can't help but feel that this trip means something. The beginning of something. Or the end of something. But JJ isn't sure which, and she isn't sure how Ashley fits into the bigger picture.

"I'll save you a seat," JJ says, as they head out to the van.

* * *

><p>Derek stares out the window at the passing scenery. If it is possible, he hurts worse today than he did yesterday. If it's possible, he feels sadder here than he did at home. He isn't sure how that happened.<p>

He's sitting beside Spencer on their way to the soup kitchen. They're not only serving the food tonight, but preparing it, too. It will take all day. It will take patience and a lot of time on his feet and a lot of movement. Derek made sure to bring enough stuff to keep himself doctored. For a good measure, he is wearing black jeans and a dark hoodie around the waist, just in case.

This seating arrangement had been the easiest way to keep Spencer quiet, and occupied. He's got his feelings hurt because Ashley's sitting with JJ, not him. Spencer's not the only one with hurt feelings. Derek wonders what happened to his own friendship with JJ. Have they ever really had one? If they did, why wouldn't she trust him with her secrets? Why wouldn't he trust her with his own.

Derek sits up suddenly, sending a pain so intense shooting through him that he nearly blacks out. Still, he can't help it. They're passing the cemetery. Derek hasn't been to see his daddy in five long years. He's never really forgotten about his daddy, but Derek tends to put him in the back of his mind, so it won't hurt so much.

For a while, he's tried pretending that Carl was his daddy but it didn't take long for that to just feel sick and wrong. His daddy never treated him the way Carl did.

"What?" Spencer is asking. He's hyper about everything Derek does, these days, ever since Spencer mistook Derek for a woman…

"Nothin' kid. Settle down." But it's too late. Spencer's seen.

"Oh! I love cemeteries!" Spencer announces too loudly. He gets attention from everyone in the van. "They have so much history in them."

"Trust me, baby Einstein, there's nothing attractive about a graveyard…" Penelope offers sadly, from behind them. "It's just a place where bodies of loved ones are laid to rest. It's lonely…and it's tragic… The only history that matters is the one with the family left behind…"

Derek finds himself nodding silently. He hasn't said it out loud - that he has lost his daddy - but people figured it out. Somehow, though, his loss pales in comparison to Penelope's. He isn't sure how, though. He isn't sure how it's better for a ten-year-old to watch his father get shot and bleed out in front of him than it is for an eighteen-year-old to lose both her parents in a fiery crash.

Maybe it's about the quantity. Losing two parents as opposed to losing one. Maybe it's about the way they died. His daddy, at least, had Derek in his last moments. Penelope's folks only had each other and they were both likely terrified.

It's oddly comforting to think of death. It seems a welcome alternative to all that Derek is enduring.

* * *

><p>Aaron keeps busy stirring the giant pot of chili on the stove. He is learning more about cooking today than he has in all his seventeen years. As absent as his mother has been from his life, she has always been a great cook. There hadn't been a necessity for Aaron to learn.<p>

One would argue that raising Sean would qualify as a necessity, however there has never been ample time to learn. But today he is taking the opportunity to learn the art of making chili. At least, according to Dave it's an art.

Suffice it to say that Dave isn't Aaron's favorite person at the moment. As someone who is around his fair share of egos, Aaron isn't a fan of them. And he most definitely isn't a fan of Dave, the chaperone. When he tried to talk to Strauss about the situation, Aaron found himself cornered into a lecture about how relationships are strictly forbidden on this trip, and he and Emily had better keep their hands to themselves.

The whole situation had bemused Aaron more than anything. He had thought that he and Emily were sufficiently careful, keeping their handholding under the radar. But he had been wrong. Strauss had threatened to send them both home when Aaron turned the conversation with a swift inquiry about why she had led him to believe he was chaperoning when Strauss had gone to Dave and asked the same of him.

"It was executive decision. I felt that two of you had a better chance looking after two kids than one of you looking after three."

"Then why wouldn't you have spoken to us together? Why do it separately and then have us turn on each other the first night?" Aaron had asked, his eyes flashing.

"Don't blame me for your own choices and behavior," Strauss had snapped. "I put you in charge because I believed you could handle yourself. If you prove me otherwise, or continue your covert activities with Emily, I will not hesitate to send you both home."

"Understood," Aaron had responded. He thought it best to keep his response short, rather than risk losing his temper.

For now, he focuses on the task at hand. The vat of chili that someone thought it wise to put him in charge of. Dave is busy trying to tell everyone else what to do and how to cook. At least this makes it slightly easier to divert his attention from the sight of Emily slicing bread and buttering it. For some reason, the sight of her in black slacks and a black cable-knit sweater, sans piercing, is just about enough to send him over the edge.

Her beauty is not something he prepared himself to notice, and ever since he first became aware of it, it somehow, continues to surprise him. He is particularly taken by her hands and their efficiency. There is something amazing about the way they are utterly unadorned. Something Aaron finds undeniably striking. He tears his eyes away, in time to stir the chili, so it will not burn.

* * *

><p>Penelope loves the busyness of a crazy kitchen. She wishes her whole life would be just like this. Full of chaos and completely barren of memories that come out of nowhere and surprise her with their clarity. She is busy tossing the salad. She watches as Spencer fights with a cheese grater, trying to produce the correct mountain of cheese. Ashley and JJ are in the dining room, setting the tables. David has elbowed his way in beside Aaron and is explaining the art of creating the perfect blend of spices in a chili, and completely disregarding the instructions of the people running the place. Emily has moved on from bread slicing and is manning the second pot of chili. Derek has been assigned the job of official greeter.<p>

She is no expert, but Penelope is pretty sure that giving that kind of job to this kind of boy is cruel and unusual punishment. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see that he is not happy - and more than that - is seriously glum. She is not a genius like young Spencer, but it does not take one to see how profoundly sad Derek is. She wonders if it is solely the fact that he is visiting his hometown, where his dad is buried, or if there is more to it. She never was officially told about his father's death, but she would need to be blind to miss the way he sat up in the van as they drove passed the local cemetery, or the hurt that flashed across his face when she and Spencer spoke.

Penelope is more than willing to take over his greeting duties, but on second thought, Derek is doing a far better job than she ever could. He has at least a passing familiarity with everyone he greets. He makes them feel genuinely welcome.

"Hey, man. Derek. Nice to meet you. You're in for some good food tonight. My friends are helping out in the kitchen. Why don't you stop over here. You need anything first? We've got bags over here with some groceries and other necessities here." Penelope watches, uber-impressed with her man as he shows each and every guest to the right spot to claim a bag, and then where to start the line. As they stand, Derek talks to them. He asks questions and genuinely cares about the answers.

She watches as he sways on his feet and winces a little. Penelope wonders if he is a little under the weather. She plans to let him into her stash of cough drops, Advil and even offer to watch things while he naps.

But she has a strong sense that he will never admit that anything is wrong. So, she just prays that he makes it through tonight.

* * *

><p>Emily stays out of sight in the kitchen. She much prefers background tasks to being front and center like Derek. She lets David and JJ serve the food and chat with the people coming through the line. The varieties of demographics strike her. There are elderly and middle aged, people in the twenties and teens. There are children and infants. Male and female. All races. It humbles her, and makes her ashamed that she and her parents live with such a level of excess. That they have lived with it so long that they consider it normal. Now, Emily is well aware of what is within normal limits and what is not. Her family lives as far in the direction of overindulgence as these people are forced to live in the poverty. It isn't fair.<p>

When she goes to college, Emily dreams of a Bohemian lifestyle with Penelope. She imagines helping people for a living. Emily visualizes a life that allows her to do what she loves with the people she values more than every one of her possessions. Someday, maybe, there will be a job opportunity that will afford all of them the chance to work together at the things that really matter. She imagines saving lives.

She conceptualizes all of them as adults. Ashley, she imagines as someone who has insight everyone else lacks. Try as she might, Emily can't see Ashley in her imaginary work-world for very long. David as the arrogant but brilliant leader, calmly saving lives and never speaking about it to anyone. JJ, deftly lying to protect the good of everyone involved. Herself, fluent in at least five languages, and cultural nuances. Aaron as the stiff and serious one. For some reason, Emily can also see him as the one in charge. Spencer, a genius at everything, and Derek, able to put himself in anyone's shoes. Penelope, of course, is alone in a dark room, but surrounded somehow by happiness and cheer. Emily is unsure what her best friend might bring to the mix, but she is sure that it is something vital.

Emily would love to live in such a life, but it strikes her as too good to be true. Something vague, distant and altogether indulgent. Still she can't help but entertain, nonetheless. She wonders if she should mention her fantasy to Penelope. She is the only one Emily can imagine confiding such frivolity in. Penelope is the only one who would not tell her that such an idea is ridiculous.

She touches Penelope's arm, and smiles at her conspiratorially.

"If we worked together as adults, what do you think your job would be?" she asks secretively.

"Oh, definitely resident tech goddess. What are we doing? Oh, wait. Let me guess… Saving the world, right?"

"Something like…" David ventures, though he hasn't been a part of the conversation. "Ladies, more chili? We could use some up here."

"Definitely," Emily answers both Penelope and David, scooping chili out and sending Penelope a knowing smile.

* * *

><p>David is in his element. He loves people. He loves food. If his mother could see him now, she would be proud. She's always harping on him to do what makes him happy, and help others in the process. Well, this is it. He has never felt happier, or more fulfilled. If only he could cook for a living and not have to go to some fancy cooking school to do it.<p>

He scoops out chili and salad until his arm is sore. Then, he goes out with Derek and talks to the people. Strauss says they will eat later, on their own, and that's just fine by him. He slaps Spencer's hand away from his own mound of grated cheddar cheese that he has been sampling when he thinks no one is looking.

"Even _I _have standards, kiddo. I might not have many and they might not be very high - but we don't eat in front of the guests. Capice?"

Spencer ducks his head, uncomfortable - as he should be - the kid needs to learn a thing or two about life. But Dave also knows that the only way to learn is to live and make mistakes along the way. So, he won't rub it in too much.

He sits at a table and has a long discussion with a guy about the Cubs, even though he is a Yankees fan, himself. That isn't what's important here. What's important is being with these people exactly where they are, and trying to make their world a little brighter. He is no pro at this but he is learning. Sometimes it takes a million failures before he can taste a morsel of success. The trick is, to keep trying. Dave looks around, and finds that everyone has found someone to talk with. Even Ashley.

It impresses him, the fact that this girl who is so uncomfortable around food will push past it to be a friend to these people. She hasn't said anything, but she hasn't needed to. It's all over her face whenever they stop at McDonald's or any other fast food joint along the way. The deer-in-the-headlights fear that she might be forced into consuming something she doesn't want. Dave has had his suspicions for sometime now. Especially when she disappeared for a couple weeks in December. True, it was over break, but he heard the rumors. Hospitalized with an eating disorder and possible other problems. He feels for her, even if he doesn't know what to do for her. It's an odd sensation, too, knowing exactly what her father took away from Penelope. But, his actions were not her actions. It makes no sense to blame her, anymore than it does to blame Dave's father for his own mischief.

She is talking with a family who looks truly down on their luck. David has faith in her. If anyone can give them hope. It's Ashley. She's a live example of hope in the midst of tragedy. On the way to talk to someone new, Dave stops by her table and squeezes her shoulder in encouragement. Strauss gives him a dirty look, but David doesn't care. If she honestly thinks he's hitting on a fourteen-year-old, then she deserves what she gets.

He's not that kind of guy. In fact, he'd like to think that nowadays, he is a little better guy than he used to be.

* * *

><p>Ashley has spoken to this one family for the entire time they have been here. She isn't sure if that's allowed, but she hasn't seen Strauss giving her the evil eye yet.<p>

This is more eye opening to Ashley than a month at inpatient treatment for anorexia and self-injury. Talking to a woman and three children who have just escaped a violent husband and father only to find themselves with no place to go and no money. They are hungry more often than not. It is programs like this that give them the opportunity to eat. The kids, ages two, five and seven, love school and daycare because they are fed there.

She finds herself opening up, little by little, about some of the things she has struggled with. Ashley isn't stupid. She will not share more than is necessary. But she shares enough.

"I can't imagine what you all are going through. I struggle with eating and I have plenty. Somewhere along the way food got twisted in my mind, you know? It meant something different to me."

"Oh, baby. Food ain't about weight. It's about nourishing your body. Givin' it fuel to run and keeping you alive so you can keep giving to people who need it," the mother says gently, covering Ashley's hand in her own.

She knows this, and yet somehow, it hasn't struck her in quite the same way. She heard it a million times in treatment. But she has never heard it from a family who is regularly hungry, and was regularly was not strong enough to fight back against the violence done to them. If there are people in the world - in this country - who are without enough to eat, and who are hurt and can't fight back…well, then, who is Ashley to deprive herself and hurt herself when she does not have to?

It's an insight so great that it shifts her focus. Not to say that recovery will be easy. Ashley is of the firm opinion that she will always struggle with anorexia and self-injury. She knows there is the very real possibility of relapse, but this trip and these people give her the insight and the heart to use the power and control she craves in a different way.

Ashley knows now that she can make the choice not to hurt and deprive herself. Instead, she can love herself. It is such a simple thing, yet not easy at all. And yet looking again at this incredible family, Ashley is aware that best thing in life is rarely uncomplicated. She might lose everything. She has already lost her father, and indirectly taken away the people Penelope loved more than anyone else.

She can't go back and start over from the beginning, but Ashley _can_ start from right now and make a new future for herself.

The insight leaves her speechless with gratitude, and breathless with hope.


	9. March 30, 1999

The second day is worse than the first. Well, better in some ways. Derek's body is finally healing. For a while there, he thought he was in serious trouble. But his prayers must be working, because when he woke up this morning, there was less evidence of what happened to him.

It was all Derek wanted, so it really got to him when his state of mind was still the same. The homeless shelter they visited was nearly as depressing as the soup kitchen. Derek loves people. It isn't that. It's just that he's been trying to lose the team for days now, and so far, it hasn't worked. Either Strauss is breathing down his neck, or else it's Hotch or Dave. Or JJ or Spencer. Oh, who is he kidding? The whole team is up in each other's business.

He doesn't want it this way, but he doesn't really have a choice. So, he'd done his best today to help out. To be there. He's never actually been homeless, but they'd come close. He knows it's not the same, but at least it gives him some compassion for these folks. It's not hard for Derek to be compassionate. _That _comes easy. It's turning it off that's difficult. It's the fact that he knows that in two months he'll be sitting in school, still thinking of the old friends he saw in Chicago. Friends he used to hang out with, who showed up at the soup kitchen or in a shelter. The complete strangers who broke his heart.

Not for the first time, it leaves Derek wondering why God allows crap to happen to people. Why let a fifteen-year-old kid and his mother lose their home because she doesn't happen to make enough money, even though she probably works harder than anyone he has ever seen? Why allow the young mother with small kids get beat up and then go hungry? …And then there's his team…

Derek isn't blind and stupid. He knows Hotch gets pounded on at home, while trying to protect his baby brother. Derek's seen the fading bruises and scars by now. It's impossible to live with three other guys for even a night and not notice things. He's seen Dave's arms and he knows there's more to those burns than he's saying. Derek can just feel that Spencer is in so much denial about whatever's happening at _his _house that he alternately lives in a world of facts and fantasy. He knows Penelope's loss. He's felt it. He can tell Emily is hiding something. Just like he knows Ashley is too thin and that JJ has gone through something - a brutal loss - that causes her to pretend and close up and hurt in silence. …And then there's him…

Should he feel bad about this? Should he feel sorry for himself? Derek doesn't think so. If he wanted to say no, he could. But he hasn't. So, it's his own fault. He's not speaking about everybody else it happens to. For them, it isn't fair. It's not their fault at all. They're victims. But this is different. Because he agrees to it. He even _asks_ in exchange for something sometimes, like with the money for Spencer. So how can Derek feel, deep down, like this is so, so wrong? Like Carl's twisting things, when it's Derek who's always coming back for more. He can leave anytime he wants. Carl's told him that. It's his choice, and he would if he could….but he wants a future…he wants to make his family proud.

He can endure this a few more years if it means all that.

* * *

><p>Aaron's exhausted the end of the second day. They are spending time in prayer, and he is fighting not to fall asleep. He hasn't realized just how much he relies on adrenaline to keep going. Now that things are calm, he has slowed down considerably, and he's afraid of being singled out as lazy.<p>

To stay awake, Aaron opens one eye, and glances around. He notices Derek, sitting beside him. His head is bowed and there are tears falling onto the church carpet below him. Aaron reaches out slowly and rests a hand on Derek's shoulder.

Even though Aaron has been careful, Derek stiffens at the contact. His eyes open suddenly, wary. Aaron takes his hand away and shows both, to let Derek know it is his mistake and Derek can relax.

"Sorry." Derek mouths the word, nodding a little, so Aaron puts his hand back. He isn't sure Derek even knows he is crying. Aaron doesn't point it out. He just sits, quietly. It means more to him, to give comfort than it does to say prayers and feel pressured to sound as if he knows what the hell he's talking about.

Aaron isn't really a spiritual person. He just isn't. It isn't possible to live the life he lived and have faith that things will simply work out for the good of everyone involved. There's the matter of God giving everybody free will. Even the bastards who don't deserve it. And, sure, Strauss can argue all she wants about God's will not necessarily being automatic, but Aaron knows that's a bunch of rhetoric. God can do whatever he wants because he's God. So, to Aaron, he has no excuse for letting the people _he created_ floundering down here without sending some kind of hope.

They've all been deeply hurt, and Aaron knows this. He also knows he isn't the only one who is terrified to return home at the end of the week. He had only to glance at Derek to know the same is true for him. That Ashley and Spencer are clinging to this experience like they will never see another like it. He knows that, beside him, Emily is not faking prayer as she wants people to believe - as he is. She is entirely convinced that the God of her faith is real. Forgiving or not, loving or not, to her - he is most definitely the real thing.

It's hard to fathom, a faith like hers. But he wouldn't be opposed to having something to put his trust in. People have faults, therefore people, no matter how perfect they appear, will let you down. If there really is something out there Aaron can trust in…first, he would be skeptical, but then, after studying it carefully from many angles, he would take comfort in it.

He knows how to fake it. Aaron knows he would not have been allowed on such a trip if his faith were perceived as anything other than rock solid. Preparation for this trip introduced him to the concept of devotions, quiet time with God, reading the Bible daily and journaling. Not that he actually _did_ any of these things frequently. He kept a journal, only because Strauss would collect and read it. So Aaron made sure to leave out large pieces of his life. His father's temper. His mother turning a blind eye. Aaron gave Strauss the profile of a happy, well-adjusted seventeen year old, with a healthy home life and a thriving spiritual life.

* * *

><p>Penelope can't help thinking that if the all-powerful Erin Strauss could see her thoughts right now; she would totally send Penelope to hell. Do not pass go. Do not collect two-hundred dollars.<p>

But is there a law that says she can't use this time in prayer to talk to her mom and dad? She misses them. And she feels at her most peaceful when she is communicating with them, instead of with the God who could not even save them. In Penelope's mind, David tried harder than God did. So, why shouldn't she talk to her parents?

The thing is, years of going to church here have taught her that séances and communicating with spirits and ghosts are all things that kind of fall into the evil category. She doesn't know why, but Penelope is pretty sure it's because no one at her church has ever had the experience of being comforted beyond what they rationally know…by something other than the God of the universe.

It's not that she doesn't believe. She guesses she still does. But she believes in other things, too. Like goodness, and Karma, and ghosts and energy and love. She doesn't think this makes her a bad person, but then again, Penelope isn't so sure. Still, as much as she tries to reconcile her parents to the peaceful place they may have gone to, if they solely believed what Erin Strauss has told Penelope to believe, Penelope can't help thinking of her parents somewhere else. She can't help hoping that somehow, they arrived at an afterlife that was custom-made just for them. And that she has the same chance waiting for her. That it's not a matter of heaven or hell. It's a matter of where a person feels most comfortable and safe for eternity. For her, that is definitely with her parents.

For Aaron, she knows it isn't. She knows he hopes that he can keep his little brother safe as much as possible. Even in the afterlife. She does not see how if Scott Hotchner suddenly asks forgiveness on his deathbed for terrorizing his family, and means it then, that he should be given absolution. For Ashley…Penelope has no idea…and she can't stop the surge of anger that comes whenever she thinks of anything Beauchamp-related.

Penelope is trying. Seriously. She wants to forgive and mean it. But for right now, the best she can do is steer clear of Ashley and try to separate her from her father. Penelope knows she can no sooner blame Ashley for her father's actions than she can blame Aaron for his, but her feelings on this aren't rational. When she thinks of what happened, all that comes to mind are all the moments when she could have done better. When her dad tried to teach her how to change the oil on her car and she half-listened while imagining what she would wear in her driver's license photo. When her mom wanted to talk about Penelope's future and she had dragged her feet and not wanted to discuss it. Now, she can't help but wonder…would her mom have surprised her? Would it have been the conversation Penelope was dreading, or something else entirely?

Penelope feels tears track down her cheeks. She thinks of her parents as hard as she can, and prays that somewhere, they are thinking of her.

* * *

><p>Dave is all for praying. Really, he is. But ever since he stopped attending Catholic mass with his parents, he has found that Protestant church is too irreverent for his tastes. He will never admit this. Not to Strauss, and not to anybody. He knows that for them, they are behaving with respect. It's just not what he is used to. Plus, he won't deny that he gets irritated when he constantly hears Strauss talk about religion as if it is a dirty word.<p>

She likes spontaneity and freedom in worship and praying. She encourages everybody to pray out loud when they feel like it, and even when they don't. When he admitted once that he wasn't comfortable with this, Strauss made it her mission to make him comfortable. She set him up in a circumstance last night where he had to pray aloud over dinner, after the soup kitchen. As much as he wanted to make Strauss happy, he just couldn't bring himself to open his mouth and pray this way. He is much more fond of Hail Mary's and Our Fathers, and genuflecting than he is with crying and raising his hands and praying so, not only God, but everyone else, can hear to. There had been an awkward silence and she had made a big deal out of praying to break his "fear". He had tried to explain that it wasn't fear, it was his own conviction. But that would mean more questions, and that would mean admitting that he's Catholic. Even though this church is nondenominational, there is a kind of stigma attached to being Catholic.

Dave knows other denominations are welcome where he now attends, but feels like there is an unspoken rule. Attendees can identify as former Methodists, or former Catholics, or former Episcopalians, but once they stepped through these doors…there was no more identifying with anything that was not exactly what this church is.

He glances around, because Dave kind of likes the church they're staying in now. Except that Strauss hasn't stopped praying out loud and taking prayer requests from the group. The things they offer are generic. Penelope, for example, asks for prayer that she not get carsick on the trip back. Hotch, that Sean have fun and not miss him too much, Emily, that her parents' latest endeavor goes well.

They are scratching the surface of a deep well, and Dave wishes they could talk about what's really going on.

* * *

><p>Ashley is praying as hard as she can. She wishes she could tell Erin Strauss what she needs prayer for, but she can't. Not without looking like a crazy person. Ashley is squeezing her hands together as tightly as possible.<p>

Not even twenty-four hours after they left the soup kitchen, and Ashley is struggling hard to keep her word to herself. She really meant it. She still means it now. But it's so hard. It's difficult to describe to someone who hasn't been where she is, and Ashley isn't sure she wants to try giving words to it. She just wishes the temptation would stop. After dinner tonight, when Erin Strauss had tried to get David to pray over the food, Ashley managed to say that she felt cornered. She couldn't elaborate more than that, and had been shocked when Erin Strauss had smiled broadly at her and said that she was "right in the center of God's will."

Now, Ashley feels like she is drowning, even more than before. If the center of God's will means that she is going to feel insane temptations to exercise, to stop eating, to do bad things to herself, then she isn't sure it's somewhere she wants to be.

To stop herself from thinking about moving around, Ashley brings her knees up and wraps her arms tightly around them. Her hands are still folded so tightly, her knuckles are probably white, but Ashley isn't going to peek and see. She needs to concentrate. To wait out these damn feelings. Apparently, they pass. But the truth is, she hasn't had nearly as much experience waiting them out as she's had giving into them.

Suddenly, she feels an arm around her shoulders. She knows it's Spencer. He's the only one who touches her, even though he doesn't really like to touch anybody. Ashley winces, as he works his other hand between both of hers.

"You can do it," he whispers, so softly, Ashley thinks she has imagined it. Then, he starts counting, and she knows that someone sees her. She isn't invisible as she fears, in moments like these.

"One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six…" on and on, they count together, and Ashley gives thanks for small miracles. For Erin Strauss not mistaking their closeness for romance.

For just how much counting the seconds can feel like a prayer.

* * *

><p>Spencer counts to one-thousand two-hundred and twenty-three before Erin stops taking prayer requests. He wonders if she is ignoring Ashley on purpose or if she really doesn't see how hard she is trying to not do anything she will regret. He wonders, too, if Erin has just picked and chosen those who she knows can lie well when she is taking prayer requests. He's had his hand raised the entire time, and she never called on him. Then, he noticed Ashley, and thought that maybe, together, they could be seen.<p>

Then, Spencer thinks, maybe it's better this way. Counting with Ashley makes more sense to him than asking for something that, scientifically, will not help anyway. Religion, spirituality, whatever people want to call it. Spencer is of the firm opinion that it works for people who want it to work. Who are willing to believe what they are told, simply because they are told it is true. He knows that people who believe in the Bible can use it to justify almost anything. Spencer cannot abide by this. If he is going to believe in something, he is going to make sure, several times over, that it is rooted in something solid. So far, the evidence for this particular version of faith isn't working for him. Still, he comes because it gets him out of the house. He knows precisely the right answers to give and to write in the journal they had to keep and turn in, to be accepted for the mission trip. He can fake it with the best of them. All that takes are keen observational skills.

He is relieved in a way, when he is not called on. Spencer hasn't really wanted to admit, with David around, that his friends were one of several very serious reasons that Spencer is depressed. People in the church he attends believe depression is a myth. Spencer knows better. People, in general, don't believe children deal with depression, but they do. Just add an IQ of 187, no social skills, a mother with mental illness, and being bullied every day for being exceptional and see what happens. Few people realize that someone with a brilliantly high IQ is just as different as someone with a startlingly low IQ. People think because he has a high IQ, he knows everything. But the truth is, he is confused more than he's not. He takes world news very personally. And he cannot follow basic directions, no matter how he tries.

So, no, he doesn't want to ask that Erin pray about the way David's ridiculous bunch of buffoon friends had lured him outside after school last spring - they were in detention and he was working on extra credit for a class - and tied him to a goal post on the soccer field for hours, without any clothes on. How David had simply stood by and watched.

His mother had never noticed he his coming in eight hours later than expected. And he had thought about suicide that night. He thinks about it to this day. If he is so worthless that this can be done to him and no one is the wiser…what is he doing here at all?

"1,224," Ashley whispers, reading his thoughts. "1,225. 1,226. 1,227..."

Spencer breathes a sigh of relief, thankful that someone else recognizes the salvation in such a simple act.

* * *

><p>JJ cannot handle this. The letter is killing her. Maybe it's the one in her pocket. The one the Millers sent in response to her request for money and prayers. Or maybe it's the other one. The one Janet left. The one JJ is pretty sure she was never supposed to find. She left it with a necklace JJ always wanted, though. So she just assumed the letter was meant for her.<p>

But JJ is pretty sure, too, that she was never supposed to be the one who found Janet, either, but she did. On a night exactly like this one. Exactly four years ago. JJ had gone upstairs to get Janet. To have her come down for supper. What she found has left her terrified enough of choking that she has cut all the strings off clothes. Terrified enough that she will not wear belts or scarves.

JJ remembers going numb. She remembers grabbing baby Kaya from Janet's bed, grabbing the necklace and the note, and running as hard as she possibly could. She hadn't known Derek yet. He was still living in Chicago. He was still living here. Weird. Anyway, she hadn't had anywhere to run. Her parents had gone out for the evening, after letting Jan have it about getting her life together, getting a job, getting out, because she didn't have a home here anymore. They had left dinner for the two of them. Told JJ to be sure Jan helped cleaning it up.

Stopping for only long enough to vomit, JJ made herself keep going. But she stopped short again, reading the note beneath a streetlight:

_You win._

The necklace had been on top of the note, like a paperweight. Because of that, JJ had been sure that this was all her fault. She drove Janet to it. She bothered her too much for that stupid necklace and now she has it, but what good is that, when she doesn't have her big sister?

To this day, she doesn't remember what she did that night. She doesn't remember coming home and cleaning up dinner like she promised. She doesn't remember taking care of Kaya, like the mother she didn't have anymore. She doesn't remember sitting her parents down and telling them that something terrible happened. She found Janet. But she remembers the lie. She remembers as if it was yesterday, telling her mom and dad that Janet didn't leave a note. She didn't leave anything. JJ remembers telling her mom and dad that she had no idea why Janet did it. When, in reality, she knew everything.

At eleven years old, she knew everything.

This praying in Chicago is going on too damn long and everybody is too damn quiet. JJ can't sit here anymore. So she does what is most familiar. She gets up and she runs.

* * *

><p>Emily has managed to slip out of the church. She is standing in the back, so she will have less chance of being discovered smoking one of the cigarettes she smuggled on the trip. If their leader finds them, Emily will be sent home for sure.<p>

It's cold tonight. The wind is strong and the sky is full of clouds. It saddens Emily that she cannot see the stars tonight. That would give her such comfort, but it is not to be. The praying inside felt so hypocritical, when Emily knows she has no business at all asking for God to help her with anything at all.

The door beside her opens, and for all Emily's grand plans to stand her ground and be fearless, she finds herself stamping out the cigarette as terror races through her veins at being found out.

Instead of Strauss, though, Emily is shocked to see JJ doubled over and struggling to breathe. The sound is thin and reedy, and her hair stands out in the backlight from the church.

Emily doesn't want to startle her, but she doesn't want to risk letting JJ pass out, either. "Hey," she says, by way of identification, so as not to send JJ into a further state of panic.

But JJ barely notices. Barely moves. She is braced with her hands on her knees. She might be crying but it is dark and difficult to tell. Carefully, Emily reaches out and puts a hand on JJ's back.

"Breathe," Emily demands in a low, sharp tone. This is not an option. It's a requirement and she wants to be sure JJ knows this. "Breathe slowly." Emily comes around, stands in front of JJ, hands on the younger girl's shoulders to ground her. They stay that way until Emily is convinced JJ will not pass out.

When JJ's finished hyperventilating, she leans heavily against Emily's shoulder. Emily isn't sure what to do, so she stays quiet.

"It's my fault," JJ gasps.

Instead of absolving her, Emily listens. She knows guilt. All too well. And she does not want absolution, just someone who will listen without judgment. She hopes this is what JJ needs as well, since it is all she feels prepared to give.

"I didn't find her in time…I didn't _do_ anything…and she died. My sister…she killed herself. I told my parents she didn't leave anything behind…" JJ continues, through tears.

"But she did…" Emily guesses gently, feeling quite sure of this.

JJ is digging in her coat pocket and suddenly dropping two small items into Emily's open palm. One is a simple necklace and the other a scrap of paper. Bravely, Emily opens the paper and reads the two words that surely changed JJ's life forever. Emily feels her heart sink, squinting in the dark.

"That was a terribly selfish thing to do to you…" Emily murmurs sympathetically. "You were just a child," she continues, noting the date in the corner of the letter. "I don't see how you could have done anything to cause something like this. She did it because of _her problems_," Emily stresses quietly. When she sees no visible change in JJ, Emily decides to cut the bullshit and be honest.

"Two years ago, when I was fifteen, I was living in Italy, and I got pregnant." She puts it very bluntly, daring JJ to be sympathetic. "I couldn't confide in anyone. Certainly not my mother. I had just been so desperate to fit in that I was willing to do anything. When I found out I was pregnant, I was in shock. I finally told a friend and we went and spoke with the priest at our church at the time. I asked their views on certain things. I was told if I went ahead with what I was thinking, I wouldn't be welcome in the congregation. The thing is, Jaje…I didn't see another option… My friend made the arrangements. He stayed with me the whole time… They told me it would be simple. The pain would be minimal, but they were wrong. It wasn't simple. And it still hurts…but to this day…there is no one to understand what it's like… They don't know that I grieve this baby's loss. That I regret my decision every single day since then… My parents still don't know, and I don't plan on ever telling them…"

"People say that people who commit suicide…they go to hell…but all I want to be is where she is…" JJ manages, her voice still thick with tears.

"I understand," Emily says softly. She does. How many times has she thought precisely the same thing about her baby?

There is silence all around them and JJ is looking her in the eye seriously. Sadly. "You were just a kid then. _I _still feel like a kid, so I know you were. You did the best you could with what you knew at the time… That doesn't make you a terrible person… It just makes you human…"

Emily's throat has closed with emotion, but she coughs to cover it, and forces herself to speak. "You aren't to blame," she says, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Neither are you," JJ responds and embraces Emily before she can pull away.

They stand like that for a long moment, praying for and grieving their departed. Each one taking comfort she never thought she'd find. And for the first time, Emily thinks, maybe, she can be forgiven.


	10. March 31, 1999

Aaron is less than thrilled at the prospect of going street ministering. He knows it has been on the itinerary the entire time. That isn't the point. The point is that Strauss is insisting on taking the four oldest - himself, Emily, Dave and Penelope - and leaving JJ, Derek, Ashley and Spencer back at the headquarters, to do things like paint and cook. In other words, things that he would rather be doing. Since he would rather do just about anything other than walk the streets of downtown Chicago at 10 PM and tell people that they are not living the right life - when he knows for a fact that he is not living the right life either.

Somehow - and really don't ask him how - at the last minute Emily and Ashley switched. Aaron is fairly certain that Strauss is in a worse mood than usual, since Emily steadfastly refused to budge on the idea of painting walls and doors. Ashley volunteered to go in Emily's place, which didn't thrill Strauss. But since she wanted them in equal groups, what else could she do? Unfortunately this meant that Penelope and Ashley would have been in unfortunately close proximity. But then JJ offered to go, to spare Penelope the awkwardness. Dave threw in the towel on street ministering when he learned they were cooking some kind of Italian soup to serve the homeless who came in. Derek nominated himself to go in Dave's place, because it's his hometown.

Of course this means that Aaron is surrounded by children. Strauss hadn't let him shirk his duty. Besides, the only real minor back at the headquarters was Spencer. Aaron could be of most use here.

Derek is carrying a stack of New Testaments, JJ and Ashley have the sandwiches, and Aaron is stuck lugging the two 12-packs of Mountain Dew. Aaron can't help but think cynically at the way this is done. Plying hungry people with food and beverages so they can jump them with a spiritual message of some kind. Aaron is fine with spreading love. It's a basic human need. But when it comes cloaked in demands to change yourself first, this is where Aaron has the problem.

Aaron's other problem is with Jason Gideon. Jason is the man in charge of the program they are helping with. He's short and compact, like a wrestler. He's graying already and has intense eyes. He's equal parts methodical and manic. He gets excited when he sees an "inebriated soul" to minister to. They are speaking to one now, in fact. Rather, Jason is doing most of the speaking, with Strauss backing him up and looking to Aaron, Ashley, JJ and Derek to join in the campaign for this man's sobriety.

"Do you want to change your life?" JJ asks in a way that impresses Aaron. She isn't judging him. She is genuinely curious. Aaron is aware, for the first time, of the way JJ has with people. She tends to know exactly what they need. Whether they need a firm, in control tone, or something softer.

Derek has separated himself and is speaking to various people, handing out New Testaments and looking so at ease Aaron is nearly jealous. Only Ashley remains as stunned and still as he. Her eyes are locked on the drunk man, who is telling JJ, with an undertone of deep sadness that he has tried many times to change his life, but it hasn't worked.

Loyalties to Penelope notwithstanding, Aaron shifts the case of soda to his dominant hand and takes Ashley's firmly in the other. She gasps a little, clearly stunned at the contact.

"I won't let anything happen to you," he promises, sighing.

Maybe, this is his only calling after all.

* * *

><p>Penelope had been fully committed to using her powers for good and not evil when she and Ashley had been in the group to go out on the streets. But then there had been some kind of divine intervention and she had been allowed to stay behind with three of the best people in the world. Emily is busy painting walls and doors beautiful colors. Dave is upstairs cooking up a storm. Penelope thinks he has taken Spencer with him, as some sort of cooking apprentice.<p>

In some kind of cosmic joke, Penelope herself is left to organize the horrendous mess that Jason Gideon insists on leaving everywhere he goes. In her mind - only in her mind - she has begun referring to him as Pigpen from the Charlie Brown cartoons. It's not that he's particularly stinky in character or has an odor; it's just that he's the single messiest human being Penelope has ever met. And that includes herself. True, she has only just met Mr. Gideon, but she is quite sure that there is no one who reaches his level of material chaos. She has already had a light bulb explode all over and she had been terrified that the rats she was told inhabit this place totally had it in for her. Luckily, Emily was still in the vicinity and helped her deal with the shards of glass.

Penelope wonders at the rest of them. Are their inner-tragedies screaming as loudly as hers is right now? Organizing books in this dank basement room that needs a makeover as bad as she has ever seen…for some reason this has caused her to miss her mom and dad like crazy. She misses them all the time, but somehow, especially now. She's developing a new respect for what her mom did every day, keeping up with the tornado that was a young Penelope. She could systematically destroy a perfectly clean room in a matter of moments, all by herself, pretending to be Wonder Woman or She-Ra Princess of Power, or JEM Girl, depending on the day.

She knows last night that JJ left the prayer time like the devil was after her, and yet here she is today, offering to go out on the street and talk to complete strangers, like she does it all the time. Derek still worries her in ways Penelope can't name. She can't help sensing that something really dark is happening with him. With no evidence to support that, though, Penelope hasn't figured out what to do about her suspicion. She can't very well go around accusing amazing little sophomores of hiding major secrets without cause. So, she decides to simply keep her eyes peeled for any signs of distress from Derek. And the rest…she guesses that ought to include Ashley….and herself, too.

* * *

><p>Emily is extremely busy. So busy, in fact, that she has stopped hearing Penelope carrying on about "the state of things in here." However, if she were honest, Emily would much prefer Penelope's version of complaining to anyone else's any day of the week. For this, she considers herself blessed. No words have passed between her and JJ since last night and that is just fine with Emily. She would much rather deal with a thing and move on, then continue to return to it and roll around until it covered her in darkness. Besides, isn't that what she has been doing for the past two years anyway? Emily is ready to move on, but she can't say the same for JJ. Or any of the rest of them. She can't speak for them, period.<p>

Staring at the tree she's pained, Emily thinks for a moment. She was told by Jason Gideon before he left that he wanted the fruits of the spirit painted on the wall. He asked simply that she make it look "happy." Since the verse in Galatians mentions fruit, Emily figures, what better way to make fruit happy than to paint it as it is in full bloom. The trunk of the tree is large and brown. She has to stand on a chair and move it around to successfully create the trunk and all the branches. Amid the root system, Emily hides the word SPIRIT. Then, in the many branches, she writes love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. It takes a long time, but she is committed to putting it across exactly as she sees it in her mind.

During one of Emily's breaks - so as not to be overcome by the strong paint fumes - she sees that Penelope has done an impressive job cleaning and has moved on to creating some sort of message out of lettered puzzle pieces. It seems there are only so many letters, so Penelope has to make due with what is there.

When it is complete, the sign covering the ground in the play area reads JESUS IS BIG FUN LOVE.

Emily smiles and climbs back on the chair to continue work on her tree.

"You know, friend, I hate to tell you this…" Penelope's voice drifts up from below her.

"Tell me what?" Emily asks, already surveying the tree for a mistake. It is, after all, the direction she is looking.

"You didn't spell _goodness_, you spelled _goo-ness_." When Emily remains silent, perplexed, Penelope graciously elaborates. "You're missing a _d._"

Emily bursts out laughing, and proceeds to add the missing letter artfully among the rest.

* * *

><p>Dave is busy talking to the many guests about whatever they want, and trying to keep Spencer from spilling everywhere. Dave decided early on that if Spencer was going to be his responsibility tonight, he was damn well going to earn his keep. So far, Dave has taught him the art of making Italian soup with sausage. Dave insisted when he realized the good people of Chicago were going to be served chicken noodle soup for probably the millionth time in a row. While it was definitely better than nothing, Dave made it his priority to not only feed these people, but to feed them well. He took Ashley on an impromptu shopping trip, and Spencer tagged along, which was just as well. Strauss was about ready to explode, when he said he was taking off with the van, until Dave explained he brought extra money specifically for circumstances like these.<p>

He sent his protégées off in search of olive oil and chicken broth, while Dave talked to the butcher about hot Italian sausage. Then they bought the remaining ingredients with Dave insisting, "Nothing low-cal. These people need to eat and they need to be warm. They need fuel to keep going." Amazingly, the kids listened - even Ashley - who attacked the task with a kind of fervor.

Now, though, is the part Dave likes more than anything else. Talking and eating. He's not eating. He's got standards, after all. He's got Spencer at the pot, stirring. Dave's developing Spencer's apparently still-developing fine-motor skills by having him ladle out soup and challenging not to let a drop go to waste.

Spencer's risen to the challenge, and Dave's got to admit, he's kind of taken a liking to the kid. Not that he wants to be best friends with him or anything - just a general appreciation for his willingness to learn and ask questions when he isn't sure. Dave loves teaching about something he's actually good at.

"The soup's good, man! Real good! Who made it?" someone speaks up.

"That'd be Spencer," Dave says, sparing the kid none of the praise. He did practically make the soup himself - under Dave's careful direction - but still. The kid deserves some praise. Every time Dave looks at Spencer, he can't help but see the scared eleven-year-old his asshole friends bullied the crap out of last year. He hadn't known Spencer from Adam then, and there was no way he would speak against them when they sought out some underclassman to target. Spencer had been a better option than most because he was so freakishly smart, and young. Like an adult in a kid's body. That was probably why Dave kept telling himself that that what they were doing wasn't that bad. Because he didn't qualify the little genius kid to be an actual child. He was a junior. Juniors were fair game, no matter their age.

But now, having spent the entire day with Spencer, Dave knows he was way off about him. Spencer is a genius. But he is also, definitely, just a kid. He's spent the better part of today flinching when Dave raised a hand to point something out in the store, telling physics jokes, but also telling and retelling his favorite parts of Ferris Bueller's Day Off - which happens to be one of Dave's favorite movies, too. Apparently, he watches to "escape from academic pressure."

Dave never thought they would have so much in common.

* * *

><p>Ashley is freezing cold. It's 1 AM. Erin Strauss doesn't seem like she is any closer to being done with this. Ashley volunteered because she wanted to try something new, and she thought it best if she wasn't surrounded by food, since it kind of fed her issues, so to speak. But she hadn't counted on being surrounded by men who reminded her of her dad.<p>

She guesses she should be grateful for Aaron, who is holding tightly to her hand. He has been ever since this started. Erin Strauss took a break from talking to people to pull her aside - just her! - and tell her that the reason they were here was not to form multiple relationships with multiple boys, but for the Lord.

Ashley's cheeks burned scarlet, and she was even more embarrassed when Aaron stepped up in her defense, telling Erin Strauss that he thought it wise that, as a young girl, she have protection. "JJ is with Derek at all times and he clearly knows his way around. What to avoid. That sort of thing. Ashley has never been out like this and neither have I. I don't know about you, where I come from, men look after women. Especially in dangerous situations."

Strauss had turned red and told them she would have her eye on them.

Ashley snaps to attention at the sound of Jason Gideon's voice. She doesn't like him much, especially when she figures out that he has spotted a knife fight in the distance, and is running right toward it. Erin Strauss is following, and now Ashley is totally convinced that they're nuts. She starts to follow but Aaron holds her back, with just one hand.

"Stay here. We're not putting ourselves in harm's way unnecessarily. I've got a little brother to get home to, and as I understand it, so do you…"

"Yes," she answers quietly.

Ashley can see Derek following suit, keeping JJ from rushing into the action. She seems to really want to. Thank God that the cops show up in time. The car pulls up - blocking that Gideon guy's frantic path to the two fighters.

She breathes a sigh of relief and hopes that soon, they can all go back.

* * *

><p>Spencer is thrilled to see the other half of their group return. He's had a great time with David, actually, which is shocking, but still pleasant. Spencer hadn't thought that was possible, but he had been proven wrong. It made him nervous, at first, but the more time he spent around David, the more convinced Spencer became that David was not a bully by choice. He simply chose the wrong friends. They closed the kitchen and washed the pots, working side by side. An odd team, most definitely, but a good one. David had not taken an ounce of credit for the soup, even though he brought the recipe from home. Spencer had never received so many compliments for something other than his intellect in his entire twelve years.<p>

He spots Ashley, coming through the doors, red-cheeked and shivering. It takes a second to realize she is wearing Aaron Hotchner's coat over her own.

"I saw a _rat_!" he tells her gleefully. "In the main room right after you left and before I went upstairs to cook with David. It was quite large. Possibly a basic _rattus rattus _species but there's really no way of adequately knowing."

"Yeah, well I saw a _knife fight_," she counters, her eyes shining. "The cops had to come and break it up and everything." She pauses. "…How big was the rat?" Spencer notices Ashley glancing nervously around her.

"Not fire-swamp huge…" Penelope offers and Spencer turns his head to look, startled. These are the first voluntary words Penelope has uttered to Ashley since six months prior that are not malicious. Spencer also knows that Penelope is referencing her favorite movie. He is learning so much about popular culture on this trip.

Maybe next year, in college, he will make friends, after all.

"Not fire-swamp huge…" he echoes. Spencer wants to get that fearful look out of Ashley's eyes. Maybe the words won't be so threatening if he says them.

"Right…well that's good then," Ashley agrees. "I still hope we go soon. I'm so exhausted…"

"Emily painted your wall, sir," Penelope announces helpfully to Gideon, who is staring, speechless at the room. "Happy, just like you wanted."

"Nice…did the room change or something?" he asks. To Spencer, he seems confused by the neatness where there was once an atrocious mess.

It seems too much for him to take in, and they leave Jason Gideon still staring, incredulous, at his new space. He wanders the perimeter, touching things and stares for a full twenty-six seconds at the tree Emily painted. Spencer appreciates the ingenuity she showed in hiding words among the roots and leaves. It takes Spencer 4.7 seconds to locate them all, but it is still a fun challenge. He tells her nice work on the tree and she smiles a little.

"Come on, kiddo," David urges, putting an arm around Spencer's shoulders. "Let's get out of here."

Oh. That's right. They're leaving. Come to think of it, Spencer is reasonably exhausted. But in a good way.

* * *

><p>JJ spends the ride back to the church trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with everybody. Well, not everybody. Just the ministering crowd. JJ had been in her element, out on the streets with the people, talking to them about their lives and sharing a little about hers. Hotch and Ashley were totally mute and not helpful at all. Derek was friendly enough, and to the untrained eye, nothing would seem off. But JJ's been his friend since the beginning of last year. He keeps a lot of himself hidden, a lot of the time. Mostly, it's okay, but tonight, there's just something going on. She can't put her finger on it, and Derek is no help. He won't even talk to her. He's just staring out the window.<p>

She thinks about, maybe talking to Strauss, but thinks better of it right away. She doesn't need to talk anybody that bad. So, JJ just sits back and thinks about the evening. It started out a major bore, when she was almost picked to stay back and keep house with the other underclassmen - and Spencer - who didn't really count as one. But then, God, or whatever, intervened and JJ got to go along. It had been so cool. It felt so free to be given that trust to go around with Derek as long as they stayed in sight of everyone else. JJ wasn't really a fan of the spiritual aspect of street ministering but she was fascinated by the "street" part. The people were so interesting. Soon, she and Derek had a system. She was what they called the "opener" because she would get the person's attention and start up a conversation. Soon enough, Derek would join in and just casually mention God. Then, they'd wait and see what the response was.

They didn't have many takers, but JJ can't say she's surprised. _She _wouldn't want a gift with strings attached, and that's exactly what the gospel message felt like to her. At least when Strauss and Jason Gideon pitched it. "Here, have some food! Oh, by the way…do you have a personal relationship with Christ?" JJ doesn't see what business it is of theirs anyway. Spiritual stuff is private. And boring.

Usually. But not when Derek talks about it. He makes it real and something that she wants to learn more about. He also understands that she has to take it at her own speed and not be pressured.

Because he's not talking, JJ turns in her seat and peeks in back at Emily. Penelope is asleep on her shoulder, and Emily's head is resting against Penelope's head. Still awake, Emily waves a little. She makes hand signals that JJ translates roughly to mean, "Are you doing okay?" So she flashes a thumbs-up before pointing to Emily and raising her eyebrows in light of the passing streetlights.

"I'm great," Emily says, mouthing the words. And JJ finds that she believes them.

* * *

><p>Derek waits until 3 AM to make his move. He's heard somewhere - probably from Spencer - that that's the time when people sleep the hardest. He doesn't want to take any chances, since they just got back a half-hour before, but everyone seems done for the day. Even Spencer hasn't moved at all since falling into his sleeping bag. Dave's sleeping weirdly close to Spencer tonight, so maybe that's why he hasn't been awake. Hotch is on the other side of the room - a still, dark lump under his sleeping bag.<p>

The girls are Derek's only real concern. And Strauss. If she finds out, she will flip her lid and then he'll be in major trouble. He has to do this, though. So, he steals through the sanctuary in the darkness and nudges the rock he used as a doorstop to deactivate the church's alarm aside. Then, Derek slips into the night.

He moves like a stalker. Like a street kid. Like a criminal. He dares anyone to mess with him. And, thank God, no one does. He remembers the way to the cemetery just fine. He could get there blindfolded, with his hands behind his back. It takes a long time to walk there, though and he doesn't have the crazy connections he used to. He is nearly there, when Derek trips and nearly goes sprawling.

In this part of town, it's good and dark. Derek assumes he has tripped over something dumb. A rock or a stick or maybe a piece of cardboard or something. The last thing he expect to look back and see, lit by the moon, is a kid. A dead kid.

Derek swallows and scrambles back. This is what he gets for taking back alleys. He leans over, because no one else is there, and examines the body. Then, he wishes he had left well enough alone. This kid - the same age as him - had the same problem Derek has. It's obvious the way the body is left that somebody messed with this kid the same way Carl messes with Derek. For a long time, Derek has thought that he was the only person who was going through this, but it's clear now that he isn't. This kid went through it, too. And - the thought's in Derek's head before he can stop it - this kid is lucky. Yeah, he's out here alone, and he's dead, but at least he doesn't have to do it anymore. Derek feels bad leaving the kid. He thinks about covering the boy with his own jacket, but then he thinks of cops and freezes. The last thing he wants to do is implicate himself by touching this kid's body, or worse, leaving anything of his behind, saying he was here tonight.

The cops had been around earlier, on the street, when there was that fight that went down on the street. The thing is, Derek would have joined JJ and run straight for it - if not for the cops. He knows all about cops from Carl. Cops will blame him. They won't believe a word he says, especially given his juvenile record. Cops will throw his ass in the lockup until he's eighteen, if not longer. That's why, he held on so tight to JJ. Not to protect her, but to protect himself. He knows evidence of what he has done with Carl is all over him, and they can find it. Carl says they can find anything. Derek knows his best bet is to steer clear of the cops.

So, Derek takes off at a hard run for the cemetery and falls to his knees in front of his father's headstone.

"Please, help me…" he begs, breathless. "Please, tell me what to do…"


	11. April 1, 1999

Penelope starts awake just after 5:00 AM. Something's startled her, but she can't say what it is. All she is sure of, is that this time it wasn't a nightmare. It was a sound from inside the church. Penelope looks around. Everyone in the sanctuary is accounted for, as far as her blind eyes can see. There is no way of knowing what the boys are up to. She hopes they are all okay, and tries to go back to sleep. It proves a pointless exercise, so Penelope gets up and heads for the ladies room. When all else fails, right?

She is on her way, fully intending to relieve herself and go back to sleep, when she notices a door leading out has been left, propped open by a rock. She stops and studies it. The size of the thing combined with its position let Penelope know that this can't possibly be random. She thinks of what this could mean. Thinks of someone from the outside coming in and stealing from the church. But, really, what could this church have that would be worth stealing.

"No offense, God…" she murmurs quietly.

She takes care of business and is on her way back, when the door in question is pulled open and Derek Morgan slips in, quiet as a thief. He is pale, dirty and looking well and truly depressed. But it's more than that. Penelope's sixth sense is working overtime. Something is really wrong here.

Without a word, she takes his arm and leads him back outside. She walks around to the side of the church and to the picnic tables far enough away that they will not be overheard by anyone.

"What is up with you?" she demands softly.

"Nothing," he denies, as if she is the crazy one. As if, he didn't just come waltzing into church at the crack of dawn, looking like he hasn't slept at all.

"Nothing…" she echoes. "You come tiptoeing in here at 5 AM like a burglar and you're going to tell me nothing's going on?" she asks, deadpan.

"Nothing _is _going on," he insists, and if not for the fear she can make out in his eyes in this beautiful pre-dawn glow, she may have just believed him.

"Derek, please. I know something's wrong. If you tell me, maybe I can help…" she offers. She sits near him on top of their chosen table, but doesn't touch him. She hasn't wanted anyone to touch her in six months. She knows what it's like.

"Maybe's not good enough!" he exclaims and she can tell he didn't mean to say that.

"Well, honey, if I don't know what's happening to you, I don't know if I can actually help or not. I hope I can. I want to. But I don't want to promise something I can't follow through on, okay?" she asks gently. She lets the silence grow a little and then adds, "It's bad?"

He nods.

"And you can't tell me because I can't promise you help…" she says, putting together what pieces she has. Still, all she is left with is an incomplete puzzle and a hurting friend.

He nods again, breaking her heart.

"Is there anyone you _can _tell?" she asks. "Do you want to call your mom? There's a pay phone inside."

"No. No!" All of a sudden, Derek's eyes are wide and wild. "I can't tell anyone, all right? Now just leave it alone. Please."

It's the last word that gets Penelope's attention. The please. It's broken and so sad. It's asking for so much more than silence, but she doesn't know what to do. So, she closes her eyes and bows her head. "God on high…" she starts softly.

But she is not only praying - she is singing - to put this prayer across in a way words never could.

* * *

><p>"This is absolutely unacceptable!" Erin Strauss explodes, rousing Emily from entirely too little sleep. She groans and pulls the pillow over her head. Four hours is not sufficient in the least.<p>

"Remind me to never go on another trip with that woman…" she mumbles.

"Holy crap. Emily, wake up!" JJ whispers frantically. "Penelope and Derek are in deep with Strauss…"

Emily is definitely awake now. She tries to focus her bleary eyes on the scene just beyond the doors of the sanctuary. Penelope, still in her Mr. Potato Head tee shirt and gray sweatpants and Derek, still in his clothes from the day before. Penelope standing just in front of Derek, and Derek looking pissed as Emily has ever seen him.

"We weren't doing anything, I swear. And…technically…he was with an eighteen-year-old! A chaperone! If you want to punish someone, punish me." Emily smiles a little, despite the situation and their obviously serious situation. Penelope has always been good at talking her way out of things.

"_Both_ of you are most definitely in trouble. Unfortunately, sending you home now would be more costly than it's worth."

Emily watches as hurt flashes across both faces in an instant. She wonders if Strauss will realize what she is implying. Chances are, she won't. For two people as sensitive as they are - though Derek would deny it - hearing they aren't worth a few hundred dollars has got to be crushing.

Without even consciously conjuring it in her mind, Emily is aware of exactly how much a human life is worth. Her bill for her own procedure had been tiny. Emily feels vaguely sick. She, too, is aware of just how much a life is worth. She turns away from the conversation, but she can still hear every word Strauss says. She can't stand that politics seem to exist everywhere. Even here, when she thought all they were doing was helping others who needed it.

Emily finds herself face to face with JJ. There are questions in her eyes. Questions that Emily cannot face so early in the day. She hears Derek's voice, sullen and defensive.

"It's April Fools! Seriously, can't you take a joke? I was just kidding around! Penelope wasn't even in on it, she just heard me walking around outside and came to see what was happening. Let her go, she's got no part in this."

"I don't see what's funny about sneaking around outdoors with the opposite sex!" Strauss insists, her voice heated and soft - but not soft enough.

"But this is _Chicago_, man! It's my hometown. For the rest of y'all it's someplace new, but for me, it's home…" Emily can't help but notice that this time, Derek is telling the truth. While the part about April Fool's had definitely been a bluff, Emily feels sure that this is definitely honest.

"You both will stay back here tonight while the rest of us go out to eat at the Old Chicago restaurant," Strauss says, like she is withholding dessert from preschoolers. "Aaron Hotchner will remain behind to see to it that you don't try anything.

"Ma'am," Penelope interjects, and Emily nearly snorts, despite her sadness. Penelope only addresses people she is angry with as sir or ma'am. "With all due respect, that's totally unfair. Why punish Hotch? He hasn't done anything."

"I wish _I _could stay home from Old Chicago," Ashley says sourly. Emily nearly jumps out of her skin. She's forgotten that Ashley is even here. She's so quiet, she tends to blend in with everyone and everything she's around.

Strauss sighs heavily. "My intention is not to punish him, it's to give both of you suitable consequences, and since you seem to think you can have free reign under my watch, I'm ensuring that you'll have proper supervision."

Emily rolls her eyes. That's a total lie if she has ever heard one. Strauss just doesn't want to punish _herself_ by forcing _herself_ to stay back from the good time. She probably figures that Hotch has little fun anyway, so it would make no difference to him if he missed out on one more thing. Emily wishes there were a way they could all stay back and send Strauss away to eat Old Chicago pizza all alone. Then, maybe, they'd feel comfortable opening up to one another.

* * *

><p>Dave is dreaming he's swimming in a big pool filled with Italian soup. It's great until one of Gideon's headquarters rats comes and starts swimming with him. Pretty soon they're multiplying and Dave is hoping to God it's just a dream. Then, he's dreaming that he's back at school, teaching Spencer the art of the harmless high school prank. He teaches him things like asking the teacher to explain, anytime he uses a big word. Dave tells Spencer to insist on knowing what the word means. Convince the teacher to look it up. Spencer is looking pretty enlightened, when all of a sudden, Strauss is walking sternly down the hall toward him. She starts yelling at him about sneaking off on the trip and how she's punishing him by making him stay with Hotch while the rest of them go have fun.<p>

He wakes up, confused, until he realizes that that last part is really happening. Except it's not him that's in trouble. It's Derek. Dave knows because he's missing. It's shocking when he hears Penelope's name, too. Why would she be in on making trouble? Come to think of it, why would either of them, without involving him? Dave has refined the art of doing things he shouldn't and avoiding the fallout.

Dave squints as he sees Strauss come into the parenting room. She looks extra gorgeous when she's all pissed off like this. He's more than a little disappointed when she wakes Hotch. Why not _him_? He's mature. He's nineteen. He's the logical choice for inflicting suitable punishment on the bad kids, because he _is_ a bad kid. But, Dave figures, there's got to be some good to come out of this. For example, he'll get pizza tonight. And he can smuggle some home for the wayward kids.

Maybe he can brighten Strauss's mood by making her laugh today. He brought his fake vomit, after all. And what says Happy April Fool's Day better than fake vomit?

* * *

><p>Ashley is developing a major headache from Erin Strauss and her lecture that will never end. It's now the evening and she has spent all day long telling Derek and Penelope how disappointed she is in them. When she isn't doing that, Erin Strauss is threatening the rest of them with some kind of dire consequences if they even think about pulling an April Fool's Day joke. She takes the fun out of everything.<p>

The way Ashley sees it, it's time to put up or shut up. That's what her dad would say anyway. Erin Strauss acts so upset about everything and never stops talking about it, but she never _does_ anything about it, either. That's just annoying. Pretty much everything is annoying Ashley today, because she's hormonal again. She hates it. She feels fatter than usual. Of course, this would be the night they would go and stuff their faces with pizza. She's thought of ducking out of this. She's thought of doing a lot of things. But Spencer is doing his job better than she expects. He is always there, checking up on her, and they have already sat down and talked about Ferris Bueller, rats, knife fights and how many slices of pizza Ashley should eat. She thought one. He thought two. He won. As Spencer puts it, he always wins.

Before she knows it, they are walking into the restaurant. The smell of pizza is sickening her and making her stomach growl all at once. Spencer takes her hand - what a little rebel - and they walk in together, like they're on a date. Except, that's so gross because he's twelve.

It's a little lonely to be six of them instead of nine. Ashley would usually be breathing a big sigh of relief to be away from Penelope, but she has the feeling like neither one of them did anything bad enough that they shouldn't be allowed to come and have a good time with everyone else.

In Ashley's experience, when someone goes that far outside the rules, it's because they want help, not because they want to act out.

* * *

><p>Spencer is determined to be as normal as possible around Ashley tonight. It will be hard because her illnesses will be having a field day. But ultimately, he reminds himself, it will be up to her whether or not she does what she is supposed to. He can only do his best to keep her accountable. It's a hard balance to keep.<p>

Something strikes him then. An impulse to say something completely stupid. He is about to blow it off and not think about it when he remembers something David told him last night, while they were making soup:

"Always trust your gut."

This was Spencer's gut. So, he went ahead and said it. Softly, and just to her. "You know, Ashley…even if you slip up in your recovery…I'll be here for you. I just wanted you to know that."

For the first time Spencer can recall, she smiles an honest smile. There's nothing manipulative about it, just her, looking startled and genuinely happy about what he'd said. He always forgets that not everyone bases everything in scientific fact. That every once in a while, it's okay to trust in something other than what he can see or prove.

"Thanks. That really means a lot to me," she says.

To his horror, there are tears in her eyes. He hopes she won't cry. He doesn't know what to do when that happens. Female emotions are so hard to figure out.

"It's kind of weird…but that actually kind of makes me want to work harder, you know?"

"No, I don't," he says, honestly.

"Knowing you won't stop being my friend either way…it makes me want to keep doing good, so that we can have fun and stuff. I mean, I hate being stuck in the hospital. Especially if I don't _have _to be. It's been three-and-a-half months, Spencer. And, yeah, it's been really hard…but it's been really worth it, too."

Now, it's Spencer's turn to smile. He has no words to express how happy it makes him to hear she is doing so well. He is not naïve. He knows she will likely struggle with both things for quite a long time. Maybe she won't have to fight them as hard, but he has a feeling that the temptation will always be there.

So, he makes the choice to always be there, too. Even if he can't make the choices for her, he can be there for her.

"Erin, table of six!" the hostess calls out, and together, Spencer and Ashley walk to the table.

* * *

><p>JJ pretty much has fun wherever she goes, but this dinner seriously sucks without Derek. And without Penelope, too. Plus, Strauss is in a totally shitty mood. This is not the way JJ wants to spend her April Fool's Day, damn it.<p>

_And _it goes without saying that JJ _knows _Derek and she knows he would never do what Strauss is accusing him of. She doesn't know Penelope that well, but she has a sense about people, and it's usually right. Her sense says that Penelope would never do whatever Strauss said they did, either. JJ wonders what the hell Strauss thinks kids do all day? JJ knows life has probably changed a lot since the 70s when Strauss was a teenager, but it's not like they go around doing the wild all the time! If Strauss really knew any of them at all, she would know that's not on any of their radars…except for maybe Dave's and Strauss is the only one he has his eye on anyway…

JJ's so mad, she takes another bite of pizza. It helps a little. She glances across the table and sees Ashley and Spence engaged in some kind of conversation about nutrients and protein. Dave's trying to impress Strauss with his knowledge about God-knows-what. So that leaves her and Emily, sitting there like bumps on a log.

"I don't think they did it, do you?" JJ whispers, just to have something to do.

"Did what?" Emily asks, looking pretty startled that anyone talked to her.

"Whatever Strauss thinks they did! Derek and Penelope! I think they're innocent…" JJ insists.

"This isn't a trial and it's not a soap opera either," Emily objects.

"But don't you think it's unfair!" JJ hisses.

"Of course I do, but Jaje…there are so many things in our lives that aren't fair. Why not focus on the good for once. And for the record, I'm pretty sure that for Derek and Penelope, missing out on pizza tonight wasn't a loss…" Emily raises her eyebrows in Strauss's direction and smirks.

"You are so totally right." JJ pauses. "You wanna start making out with Dave and I'll take Spence and then we can all go back?" she asks, a gleam in her eye.

"Oh no….there's nothing so tempting that I'd ever make out with David Rossi…" Emily wrinkles her nose. "Now, Aaron, on the other hand…"

"Erin! She's like, twice our age! Gross!" JJ goes quiet as David, Spencer, Ashley and yes, Erin, all look their direction. She cracks up.

When their attention is back on each other, Emily elaborates. "_Aaron_ Hotchner, JJ, not Erin Strauss. Just the idea of me and that woman…" she shudders.

"Wait. You _made out _with him?" JJ asks, wide-eyed. Just when she thought nothing exciting was ever going to really happen. "How was it? I mean, did you close your eyes? Did _he_ close _his_ eyes?"

"God, JJ, I don't know. And we didn't make out. It was one kiss. Very innocent. Very short. ..But _very _nice," Emily elaborates, smiling.

"I knew it! I knew he was a good kisser!" JJ screams.

When all eyes turn toward her and Emily quickly schools her face to show no guilt, Strauss of course, asks for details. "Who's a good kisser, Jennifer?"

"Uh…well, I didn't want to say anything, but…Leonardo DiCaprio…"

"Oh?"

Strauss is trying so hard not to lose her shit right now and go all crazy on them about relationships. JJ can see it. And then, she speaks, and JJ is pretty sure she will never view _Titanic_ the same again.

"Is he a foreign exchange student?" Strauss asks, like she's mildly curious, and trying hard to be cool.

JJ's lucked out in her guess that Strauss has honestly never seen a rated R move, or even a PG-13 movie with a naked scene. She and Emily exchange glances and busy themselves with their pizza.

* * *

><p>Derek is in the worst way possible right now. He's stuck here with Penelope and Hotch, who both have this way of knowing things about people, without them even having to say a word. For now, they are giving him space, but what about later? What about when they get tired of waiting? Derek doesn't know what he'll do. Strauss was right about one thing, though. Derek has a ton more respect for Hotch and Penelope than he does for her.<p>

He can't talk about this. He just can't. Not only because he promised Carl, but because he knows it's sick. And he's terrified of what kind of person that makes him. Derek hears all the time in church - these lectures about saving yourself for marriage and keeping your thought life pure. But what if you were like him and you hadn't had a pure thought life for over a year now? What if, every single time you closed your eyes, it was there to greet you like some kind of twisted terrible thing? What if he could never be rid of it, no matter how he tried?

Would he go to hell for this?

Derek knows the answer. He's sure he will. His relationship with God won't matter because God won't want anything to do with him. On Derek's judgment day, he knows just what God will say… It is his worst fear. Worse than anyone finding out. Worse than getting arrested or having Carl come after him, or kill him, like he promised that first time, if Derek ever told.

It's worse than all of that because if he can't go to heaven when he dies, then he'll never get to see his father again. He'll be totally separated from his family and everyone he loves. Not just for a while. For eternity. It's enough to break him inside. But it's not enough to make him talk. It's not enough to admit what's really going on.

Penelope's eighteen. He knows the minute he was to tell her, she would be bound by law to report it to somebody and then Derek would be finished. No more high school. No football scholarship.

No future.

* * *

><p>Aaron sits quietly in the sanctuary beside Penelope. She has turned on praise music, even though, in his mind, there is nothing to praise. Nothing to give thanks for. This week flew by and now they are within a few days of returning home. For the first time, Aaron is sure. He does not want to go back to his old life. He wants something new. Something better for himself. He looks past the pews and through the glass doors of the parenting room, as Dave coined it. Derek is just sitting in there on the floor. His head is in his hands. He looks like he could be praying, but Aaron isn't sure.<p>

"Something's wrong with him, isn't it?" Aaron wonders, nudging Penelope out of song.

"Yeah. Something is. But I have no idea what…" She's sad, and he can also see that she has an even deeper sense of what is going on than he does.

Aaron stands and strides into the adjoining room, closing the door behind him. If something serious is happening to Derek there is no point in pretending it isn't or talking around it or letting it ruin him. Aaron has decided to address it. If he has learned anything about himself on this trip it's that people can wish each other well. They can even pray for each other. But that only gets a person so far. Empathy without action is meaningless when it comes to the most important things.

Derek looks up as Aaron sits in front of him. His eyes look haunted and frightened. Shameful and defeated.

"Where were you last night?" Aaron asks, trying to sound sympathetic and not like an interrogator.

"The cemetery," Derek says, the same way another teenager might say he was "out" or "at a party." Matter-of-factly with a touch of defensiveness.

"Why?" Aaron asks, his tone measured.

"Do I need a reason?" Derek snaps. His eyes are alive with something dangerous.

"No. But most people have a reason for going to the cemetery in the middle of the night," Aaron presses gently.

"I went to talk to my dad…about something important…"

It's like Derek's words have weight, somehow. And as quickly as he was angry, he is now defeated and deeply troubled. He has broken eye contact and Aaron wishes he could help. Realistically, Aaron knows he can't help everyone, but to sufficiently help one person would really be great. Especially someone like Derek, who, Aaron knows, is a really good kid. Who, Aaron knows, does not deserve to endure whatever it is he is enduring.

"What did he say?" Aaron wonders, because it isn't outlandish to talk to someone who is deceased. Just because someone isn't here physically doesn't mean they aren't still here in some other form. Aaron waits, patient.

Just as he hoped, Derek meets his eyes again. He speaks a single word like it is choking him:

"Tell."

Aaron holds his breath. He waits. He even nods.

But then Derek shakes his head.

"I can't," he whispers.


	12. April 2, 1999

Emily can't believe it's already the last day of their trip. She feels like there is much more to be done than what they did. Much more to say than what they said. But she knows better than to say a single word to that affect. No, Strauss still hasn't gotten over Penelope and Derek's perceived wrong. In fact, she has stayed up all the previous night to make sure none of them did anything she didn't approve of. She was like a sentry or something, on her ridiculous air mattress, while the others had sleeping bags. To Emily's way of thinking, if she, Dave and Aaron - who, admittedly, are used to finer things - can sleep on the ground, than Strauss surely can, too.

Something had been strange upon Emily's return the night before from the pizza place. It had been as if the air was heavy…pregnant with something. A sadness and an expectation. She had asked Penelope about it, and she simply nodded, and asked that Emily pray. When Emily asked what she should pray for, Penelope would not elaborate.

"Just pray," she had said. "Please. I'm asking this as your friend and your secret agent. It's really, super important. So, please? Just pray?"

"Of course," Emily had answered. She knows if Penelope is asking for this, it's got to be important. So she has spent the night praying. Hoping that whatever is going on turns out all right.

Today, they are spending time with some inner-city kids. It's a nice last day, with minimal stress. But Strauss is in a mood and so are most of the rest of them. Emily imagines, if they can steer clear of each other, this day might be okay. But if they butt heads, things could get ugly.

She has no idea what is going on. But Emily is sure it will reveal itself in time. For now, she will do her best to play with these children and not focus on the fact that she will be leaving them in just a few hours. It's not natural for her to play with a child, but she is learning. She takes tips from Penelope, especially, who seems to have a way with all children, not just little Sean. To make it less awkward, she joins whatever Penelope is doing. Emily is comfortable taking care of little kids, but older ones? She isn't sure what American kids are into. She was raised to be a little adult. Quiet and obedient. And she was, until she turned fifteen and moved to Italy. Then, everything changed. _Emily _changed, and what her parents said didn't matter.

Penelope is leading a game called Red Rover, which is, of course, completely foreign to Emily. Thankfully, she catches on quickly enough. She even finds herself enjoying it. During the game, though, her gaze drifts to Strauss and she is reminded of how volatile things are right now among the team.

She remembers Penelope's request, and sends up a quick prayer before a child from Penelope's team comes rushing straight at her, and Emily holds the hand of the kid beside her more tightly.

* * *

><p>Dave loves playing Red Rover and Four Square flag football, and he loves being on Emily's team while he does it. Because she doesn't have a clue how to play and it's fun to confuse her by inventing rules and getting the kids to go along with them. Luckily, she is a pretty good sport. He knows she can tell when he is fooling around, but she plays along, because it makes the kids laugh.<p>

He tells her the rule in Red Rover is not to break through the linked arms of the opposite team, but to see who can hang the longest on them before falling. He almost had her on that, if not for Penelope, ruining his fun and telling her that, "in fact - and as usual - David's wrong."

Dave doesn't mind it, really. Penelope's an okay gal. It's nice to spend time with these two instead of Strauss, who has been so negative that Dave doesn't even find her attractive today. And that's saying something.

"Now, for flag football," he tells Emily seriously. "The rules are to get rid of all your flags as quickly as possible. Understand?" he asks.

His team of kids laughs quietly, and then, Dave calls a huddle and tells them the real rules of the game. He makes sure, too, to add that he is only teasing Emily because she thinks it's funny, too. Dave makes sure to tell the kids that they are all friends and they have jokes that they play on each other. But only harmless ones. Not jokes that can hurt other people.

Dave has made it his new mission - not to be responsible for a new generation of bullies - but for knowing that he's sending kids the right message.

* * *

><p>Ashley is busy playing basketball with a group of girls who are all a billion times better than she is. Now, if they had a gym here, with some equipment, she could definitely show them a thing or two. They might even be impressed.<p>

"Hey, blonde girl! Pass!" a little voice orders, and Ashley gratefully gets rid of the ball.

This trip has been better than Ashley could have dreamed. It's not like it's been ideal, but it's been the break from her life back home that she has desperately needed. It's been a fresh start that she never would have had if she'd stayed back. It's strengthened her resolve to deal with and face her issues instead of coping in unhealthy ways. Looking at all these little faces, Ashley finds she wants to be the kind of girl these kids can look up to. She doesn't want them to grow up hating themselves just because they aren't a size zero or because they have problems at home.

Ashley knows she can't really drive that point home in an afternoon, but she also knows that action is more important anyway. So, even if she doesn't feel completely comfortable with herself, she doesn't see anything wrong with living as if she believes it until she actually does. Fake it 'til you make it, right?

Sure, she might slip up. Odds are, with her history and life stresses and other factors, she is probably more likely to relapse than not. She's not giving herself permission, but just knowing realistically where she's at helps. Something no one knows is that she has been struggling with these issues for years. They aren't new. Not even to high school. She has tried to ask for help before. She has tried to stop by herself, and it worked for a little while. But three-and-a-half months is the longest she has ever gone without being self-destructive.

And regardless of what might happen in the future…right now, Ashley is proud.

* * *

><p>Spencer is thoroughly perplexed about something. Something he can never talk to his mother about. He's tried asking David, but David was no help. Spencer even tried reminding David of his dream. The one in which he was teaching Spencer how to harmlessly prank people by asking questions and not resting until he had the answers. David had told Spencer all about the dream, upon waking, and Spencer had promised to give it a try once he was back in school. Dave told him not to stop until he had all the answers he was looking for. So, Spencer vowed to do just that. Besides, it was nice to have an excuse to badger someone relentlessly into giving information.<p>

He corners Erin when they are back at church. It's not the kindest thing, but it's the only way he can be sure she won't run away from him when he starts asking and refuses to stop until he is satisfied with her answers.

"So, Christians believe that God created man and woman," he begins, even though Spencer already knows this. "I'm curious, though. If God did that, why would he care what way people did it?"

Erin blushes and isn't quite looking him in the eye anymore. "Spencer," she sighs, "I really think now isn't the time to play devil's advocate…"

"Oh, I'm quite serious," he assures her. "I really want to know. You've been very preoccupied with the idea of us…well…doing it…if we're unsupervised. My question is why would God care when we did it, if he made people's bodies that way in the first place?"

She has started walking, but he is keeping up, despite the obvious differences in their heights - and therefore - his leg length.

She starts talking, explaining things that are completely irrational and make no scientific sense. Spencer tunes her out, but he keeps his face attentive. He always feels bad when an answer is not nearly as interesting as he anticipates. He can tell Erin is trying to draw him and the whole of them - because now they're sitting in the sanctuary - into the conversation with some salacious fact that can't possibly be true about an entire book of the Bible dedicated to nothing but the act of sleeping together.

She talks on and on, and Spencer finds himself exceedingly interested. He finds a seat next to JJ and listens carefully. He contemplates taking notes, but decides against it. He wishes there were some sort of handout to go along, though. If he could read this information, he would have no trouble committing it all to memory. But wait. Erin said it was actually in a book of the Bible.

Spencer scrambles around, knocking JJ's Bible in the frenzy to find his own. He looks over the back of the pew. He manages to lose a shoe. Then he finds it, shoved beneath the wooden bench. He scans the table of contents and finds Song of Solomon and then, happily, begins to read.

* * *

><p>JJ can't stop watching Derek. There's something going on with him. Something major. She has her suspicions. Maybe drugs. Maybe he fell in with the wrong crowd and he wants to get out of it, but doesn't know how. Maybe he's feeling bad for not being a strong enough Christian. Somehow, though, JJ is sure it's none of those things.<p>

This - whatever it is - has been going on for a long time. JJ knows because at first he wasn't this way. When she first met Derek at the beginning of freshman year he was a little wild, but he was fun. He was funny. He was always making everybody laugh. Now, he's so serious. She can't put her finger on when it changed, but it definitely had changed. Derek's different now. And whatever it is that he's dealing with isn't going away. It's getting worse.

When Strauss starts in on another purity lecture, JJ rolls her eyes, and catches Derek standing really still, his jaw working, like he's trying to keep his temper in check. For the first time, JJ starts to piece together things that she has previously ignored. This isn't the only time Derek's gotten mad during a lecture about relationships. If JJ didn't know him as well as she does, she might have suspected he had early sex and regretted it. This, though, feels like something else. Something darker. She doesn't know exactly what, but she knows it's bad.

From beside her, Spencer speaks up, surprising JJ out of her thoughts.

"He's probably angry because of his problem. You know," he says seriously, barely glancing up from his frantic reading of the Song of Solomon. JJ guesses Spencer _is_ actually a typical twelve-year-old under all that genius. The realization makes her happy, if only for a moment.

"What…What problem is that?" she asks, not all that sure that she wants to know.

"He doesn't want me to say anything, but…I found a _feminine napkin_ in the men's room. A used one and the blood was fresh. Right after I saw Derek come out of the bathroom. He's in denial about it currently but I know there's research to support this kind of thing…" he confesses in a whisper. "I mean, he could be a girl and genuinely not know it."

JJ feels cold all over. She doesn't bother talking Spencer out of his hypothesis. "When did you find this?""Four days ago," he says, certain.

JJ feels lightheaded. There's a girl on her soccer team who confided that she was being abused. She told some girls on the team after their last game. They were drinking and the girl was tipsy, but when she gave details about how she hid the abuse, something in JJ couldn't help but believe her.

She hadn't done anything then.

But what the hell can she do now?

* * *

><p>Derek feels the heaviness inside him growing with each passing minute. He feels like the sinner in the Bible who has a millstone tied around him and somehow ends up in the sea to drown. This is not how he wanted this trip to go. He wanted to make a difference. He wanted to change. To be better, somehow. Braver. But Chicago has done nothing but opened up old wounds and aggravated new ones. It hurts to breathe. It hurts to <em>be<em>.

Then, Strauss speaks, and Derek has enough. He can't handle her remarks anymore. Can't express how every single thing she says about purity and contamination and saving yourself for marriage feels like an attack. Derek knows, too. It feels like an attack because he is guilty. He has done this terrible thing - not just once and not just by mistake - but over and over. Fourteen is old enough to know that what they did was beyond wrong, but Derek just went ahead and went along with it.

So, when Strauss hauls off and talks about how God created sex and he wanted sex to feel good, Derek loses it. She is so hypocritical.

He is so lost.

"What the hell does that even mean? You spend all this time telling us not to pair off boy-girl. Not to give into temptation, but now…_what_? You obviously have no idea what you're even talking about!" He is shaking. His eyes are full of tears and his throat is tight with emotion. He wants to say so much more than this. He wishes he kept his mouth shut.

He wants to say that if she knew the first thing about it, she would know that she had it all wrong. It's not great. It's confusing, and what is it that she always says? "God is not the author of confusion." He wants to say it hurts. He wants to say once you start, there is no way to get out. Not way to stop. Because nothing's free in life. Everything costs.

And tomorrow, he has to go back to the same hell.

He slams his way out of the sanctuary, letting the side door bang shut behind him. He knows someone is behind him so he runs harder. Arms catch him from behind and he fights but they hang on.

"Derek.."

It's JJ. He should have known. She's the only one who can match him in a race, and the only one with the guts to try and physically stop him.

He turns on her, his eyes flashing dark and angry. But she stands her ground, unafraid. She doesn't speak. She doesn't push. She doesn't leave. When he hits his knees, so does she.

Emotion he's held in for more than a year comes to the surface. Derek holds onto himself, rocking back and forth on his knees. Even though JJ makes no move toward him, Derek finds himself keeping her back with a hand.

"She doesn't know anything…" he manages, his voice thick. "I bet she's never even… Have _you_?" he asks, because suddenly, it's important to know.

"No," she says, keeping her voice very quiet. Her eye contact very direct.

"Well, just trust me, she's wrong, okay? Do you believe me?" he asks.

"I'll always believe you."

It takes him by surprise. It's what he needs. It's what no one else has said.

It breaks him.

"I can't go back… I can't. JJ, promise you won't tell…if you do then Carl's gonna…" he trails off, pressing his lips together. He can't do this. What is he thinking? Carl is going to kill him. And his family. Then he's going to end up just like that dead kid Derek saw the other night. He closes his eyes, and tears escape.

"Derek…is Carl…he's not hurting you, is he?" JJ asks, like she doesn't want to believe it. When he doesn't answer, she keeps it up. "Derek." Her voice is lower now, more controlled. "This is really important."

She really believes it is. And Derek almost buys that she will take his word for it.

"Yes… But it's an agreement…" It's out of his mouth before Derek can stop it. He watches JJ's eyes narrow. He watches her go pale.

"Derek, that's not an agreement," she says slowly. "He's using you."

"That's your opinion," he says firmly. Derek can feel himself closing up. He never should have said one damn word.

"It's not just _an opinion_. It's the truth. You're fifteen. _He's_ an adult. That's abuse. And it's not your fault."

She moves closer to him and his breath catches. He doesn't want her to touch him right now. Hasn't wanted anyone to touch him for the last 18 months. But now, here she is, putting her arms around him.

He shudders, and when she whispers in his ear he has to fight flashbacks. What she says isn't dirty or disgusting. But it makes him just as terrified.

"I believe you. This isn't your fault, okay? I don't care what he told you. I don't want him to ever touch you again…that's why… That's why we need to tell Strauss."

Derek wants to fight. He wants to tell her there is no way in hell he's going to do that, but he's got nothing left in him. He is so weak. So defeated.

This is all he's been afraid of. And all he's ever wanted.

* * *

><p>Aaron tries not to pay attention to what is happening out the window. It's getting dark. It has been hours since JJ came inside with Derek and asked to speak privately with Strauss. Something is happening. Something is wrong. Aaron can feel it. If growing up in a household like his has given him anything, it's the ability to sense when things are not as they should be. He's become an excellent reader of people, because he had to be. Because it has been necessary to his survival.<p>

Since Dave has Spencer occupied with dramatic readings from the Song of Solomon, Aaron goes over to sit beside Emily. Because Strauss is otherwise occupied, Aaron leans over and pecks Emily on the cheek. Ashley and Penelope are sitting far away from each other, but wearing identical expressions of shock and pleasure at the display of affection.

"Your two breasts are like two fawns, like twin fawns of a gazelle that graze among the lilies!" Dave reads, loudly and dramatically, while Spencer listens with rapt interest.

"Boo!" Penelope calls. "David, stop reading that! You're making Ashley all self-conscious!"

"I'm fine," Ashley assures, her tone amused and surprised as it is whenever Penelope addresses her.

"Fine, then you're making _me _self-conscious!" Penelope admits. "I'm never going to be able to look at my girls the same way again!" she objects, staring down at her own chest.

Aaron averts his eyes and clears his throat.

"Are you ladies all right?" he asks, looking from face to face for signs of distress. There is no reason for this, really, except for the fact that there is no way to find out what is really going on outside, so in the meantime, he seeks to be sure everything is as it should be inside.

"Oh, we're fine," Penelope answers for all of them. I just wish I could say the same about Derek and JJ…" she ventures.

Aaron follows her gaze out the window. It's been only minutes since the last time he checked, but already their silhouettes are fading in the setting sun. He wonders what could have happened. What could have made Derek so upset that he left and then never returned except to have JJ retrieve Strauss.

Derek's posture looks defeated as it did the night before in the parenting room. Aaron has known for a long time that something wasn't right with Derek, but it doesn't make him feel any better to have been proven right.

"What are you thinking?" Emily asks, her voice quiet and serious.

"That I've known for a long time something wasn't right with Derek. I tried talking to him about it last night and he said he couldn't. I don't know…I just wish I could have done more, I guess."

"I think," she says deliberately, "that you did exactly what you were meant to do. I know you're not comfortable in the role of caretaker, but you _are _good at it. Who knows? Maybe it's a calling…" she muses.

"If it is for me, than the same must be true for you," he says, looking deeply into her eyes and trying to keep a hold of himself while, in the background, Dave continues to read about animals, fruit and women. He is about to get pulled into another kiss when the door opens, and Strauss comes in with Derek and JJ in tow.

Strauss looks pale, and Derek and JJ are quiet, subdued and broken.

It only takes Penelope a moment to get to her feet.

* * *

><p>In moments like these, Penelope finds it's best not to think too much. Better just to act, and reflect on it later. Preferably when she is alone in her room, or in the van, or anywhere where she can contemplate her own successes and failures.<p>

Penelope knows without confirmation that whatever Derek's secret was, is out. That it is just as terrible as she suspected. That it is nowhere near over for him. She knows without knowing, that Strauss is headed for the pay phone and so are Derek and JJ, but Penelope intervenes.

In her world, love trumps everything.

She stands in front of them, blocking their way like a tank, wearing ridiculous Potato Head pajamas. She looks at them in turn, taking in all their pain - Derek's especially - and then, she wraps her arms around them and holds them. JJ sniffles into her shoulder, but Derek is totally still. It's like he's in shock. Like he's not sure how to move in this new world, where secrets are told and where he is believed.

There is nothing to say - Penelope knows this like she knows anything for sure - so she just holds them. She's just there for them in a way she suspects that both of them need but have never been able to ask for. Soon, JJ moves out of the embrace and instead is joining her, holding onto Derek.

He needs this. Just like she did, months ago, when she had to face her brave new life when it changed over night. For better or worse, Penelope knows that change is still scary.

Sometimes, it's all you can do to hold onto one another until the person who needs to finds his footing. Until he can stand up again, tall and strong, against the wind. Penelope believes this will happen with every fiber of her being. It has to. If she can get through what she got through, then she knows beyond any doubt that Derek can get through whatever he is facing.

They stay like that, until slowly, they are surrounded by Ashley and Spencer, Emily and Aaron and David. Penelope feels her own love multiplying seven times over, and as Derek leans against her, she prays that now he can find peace.


	13. April 20, 1999

It's hard for Dave to believe he was in Chicago two-and-a-half weeks ago. It seems like yesterday, and it seems like a lifetime ago. He finds himself thinking of the things they did there. Making soup with Spencer. Visiting the homeless shelter and the soup kitchen and playing with the kids. It's not something he can talk about now that he's back. Not unless he's with somebody else from the trip. But even then, it's kind of weird. Things have changed.

Strauss has been acting different ever since she left with Derek and JJ to make that call on the last day in Chicago. She's more aware. More down-to-earth. More annoying, too. But Dave finds he doesn't mind it as much. Now that he isn't head-over-heels for her, anymore, it's easier to see her as normal. Someone who has good days and bad days. Not someone who is always perfect, or who always should be perfect.

He has it on good authority that she has made an effort to sit down with all of them one on one and really try to connect. To see what's going on with each of them. Whatever happened to Derek has caused her to take a second look at all of them. And while Dave won't admit anything deep to her, he does appreciate the effort.

He appreciates it because honestly, it's been tough being back. He's around his old friends who want him to keep living his old way. They single out Spencer in the halls, and Dave finds himself thinking twice before coming to his aid. Before risking the heckling coming from his gang of former buddies.

Then, the news breaks. A school in Colorado has been attacked in a way that's become all too familiar over the past few years. The thing is, this one is the worst yet. This one feels closer than most. It feels more real. Dave can't say why. He only knows that watching the news coverage in the middle of class makes his insides twist. It makes him angry.

"What is going on?" he asks, under his breath. All the coverage he is seeing shows that the students inside are still in very real danger. There is no way of knowing if it's over or if it's still happening.

It's harder than Dave can admit to see this kind of scene unfolding in front of him. He doesn't know what he wishes. He just knows it isn't this.

He wishes he could be there. He wishes he could be of some help. Surely, anything those cops do would be better than doing nothing. Dave puts his head in his hands. He thinks of the outbreak of fights in his own school since he has been back. He hopes they are not next.

* * *

><p>Ashley has just passed the four-month mark. It's been harder these last seventeen days, because even those she and Penelope are getting along okay, it's still common knowledge in school. What her dad did is still fresh on everyone's minds - especially the seniors - and Ashley deals with the insults from students and the looks from teachers.<p>

Whenever she gets mad and feels the urge to do something to herself that she'll regret, she thinks of Chicago. Would she do what she is thinking of to any of her friends on that trip? And if not them, then why would she contemplate doing it to herself? When that rationale is not enough, she thinks about how hard she has worked and how much she loves having four months under her belt, so to speak. This really is a lifestyle change. A psychological change. She's in counseling, still, to help. Her mom had been on board with that, at least. It helps, even though it also makes her feel like a freak.

When she mentions these thoughts to JJ one day at lunch, she asks Ashley if she would rather be a live freak or a dead non-freak. That puts things in perspective. She and JJ aren't best friends, like Ashley hoped they would be at one time. But JJ's here when she needs a good dose of perspective in her life.

Ashley also knows - thanks to JJ - that she is not the only person with issues. Derek's got some serious stuff going on in his life. He didn't show up at school his first couple days back from Chicago, and when he did come back, he seemed really different. Depressed and withdrawn. Ashley wonders if he is doing any better now. She knows better than to assume JJ will say anything about what Derek confided in her. While some kids are the school's best gossips, JJ has the more respectable title of being the school's best secret-keeper. If you tell her something in confidence, she will absolutely not repeat it more than she has to for your safety. That's why Ashley chose to confide in JJ as well. She figures, the more people who know her secrets, the less chance they have of trying to gain the upper hand with her.

It has been nice having JJ as a confidant. Ashley couldn't very well talk to Spencer about her dilemma about whether or not to quit gymnastics. But JJ offered insight. She offered good advice. Most importantly, JJ insisted that Ashley get various opinions and advice, but in the end, do what was best for her. And in the end, Ashley came to the realization that while the sport suited some people, Ashley wasn't able to trust herself fully when several of the girls on the team were embracing the very thing Ashley struggled to defeat.

Every day is still a struggle, but she has never been happier. She decides to stop by Spencer's house after school. It's been a long time since they talked and Ashley wants to make sure she is there for him, like he has been there for her. Though he insists he needs no repayment, Ashley isn't repaying him. She is just trying to practice being a friend.

* * *

><p>Spencer arrives home just in time to see his mother in a severe downward spiral. She has been doing fairly well since his return, but this news today… It's just too much for her to handle. It sends her to the edge. She is rambling and near incoherence. Spencer cannot get through to her no matter how he tries. Eventually he just sits down in the corner of the room where she's pacing and keeps out of her way. He wants to be here, though, in case she becomes a danger to herself or someone else.<p>

He can't understand what she's saying - only that it has to do with the government. That is nothing new. But apparently, this latest happening on the news has brought everything to a new level. Spencer is genuinely scared for her. He is afraid to call anyone, for fear that she will lash out at him and accuse him of being involved in whatever she thinks is happening.

When Ashley comes to the door, Spencer does something he has never done before. He prays. He prays that she doesn't come in. That she doesn't knock. Ashley knows a little about his mother but not an amount that would inform her of the severity of what is going on now. He does not want to involve her. He glances at her through the open screen door and shakes his head very slightly.

He must look suitably terrified because Ashley casts a concerned glance in the direction of Spencer's mother and then sends him a gesture that clearly means, "It's okay." She stays outside until his mother wanders into the next room and then slips inside, grabs his hand, and they make a break for it.

They don't go to her house, but head in the direction of the church. Ashley lends him Andrew's bicycle. She rides her own. They pedal fast, without speaking. Spencer knows that Erin has promised him if he needs anything, he can always come to her. Well, he needs something now. He needs someone to make sure his mom is okay. He needs someone to take care of him for another month so he can go away to college. Then, he can come back - at eighteen - and act in her welfare. He will make sure she is taken care of then, but for now, he has to take care of himself.

They run into the building across the street from the church and search for Erin. They find her in her office, painted a strange, unsatisfactory lavender color. JJ, Derek and Dave are here, too. All of them look terrible. All of them are crying.

All of them are watching the news coverage that triggered Spencer's mother's latest episode.

"I need to talk to you," Spencer says, addressing Erin.

She looks up, tearfully, and asks, "Can it wait?"

* * *

><p>JJ is shock when Spence and Ashley burst into Strauss's office. It's obvious neither of them have a clue what's going on, or if they do, then they just don't care. Spencer's insisting on talking to Strauss. When she asks if it can wait, betrayal and anger flash across Spencer's face and he turns to leave. To JJ's shock, Ashley stops him. She holds his hand firmly and won't let go. JJ thinks back to all the times she's seen him do this for Ashley and she's grateful they have each other - even as the country seems to be falling apart around her.<p>

JJ has spent most of today on a field trip through Peer Mediation. It's something JJ's been involved in it since the beginning of the year. Something about helping people resolve their conflicts had appealed to JJ. This week is important, in terms of Peer Mediation. It's what's referred to as Keep the Peace Week. The field trip is more like a seminar helping the student mediators learn more about peaceful conflict resolution. It was, all in all, a great day. JJ felt accomplished.

Then, she had returned to school, with ten minutes left before the final bell rang. The leader of mediation had turned on the television in the corner of the classroom, and just like that, nothing was the same again. Keep the Peace Week suddenly seemed too small for the magnitude of violence JJ suspected was going on - maybe even as they watched.

JJ stopped at home briefly after school, calling everybody from the Chicago team. She wasn't able to reach Spencer or Ashley. Hotch, Penelope and Emily were all at Emily's, watching coverage on TV.

She feels strongly that they should do something. Pick up and go there and help these kids. It's what they had done in Chicago, wasn't it? Gone where the greatest need was? Right now, Chicago's needs pale in comparison to those of this school. This is something JJ has never seen before. Something she never imagined she would see unfolding live, in front of her eyes. Though she tries to stay strong, this time she can't keep it together. She is surprised to feel Dave's hand resting on her shoulder in support.

Derek stays quiet. He sits apart from everyone, looking shocked and grieved. JJ knows people think they've talked a lot since the last day of the trip, but the truth is, Derek closed right up. She has no way of really knowing what he's thinking. Though, sometimes, she can see it in his eyes. She can see that he feels betrayed by her.

JJ snaps back to attention when Ashley speaks, with an authority that JJ has never heard her use. She wonders where this girl found that kind of strength.

"No, it can't. This is important. Didn't you just tell me last week that you were here if any of us ever needed you? Well, right now, we need you. He wouldn't have asked if it wasn't serious," Ashley stresses.

"I need to stay at your house," Spencer blurts to Strauss, and for the first time, JJ registers that there are tears in his eyes, too. "Can we go somewhere else? I don't want to watch this…" he says, pretty much begging Strauss, or Ashley or both of them.

"Of course," Strauss reassures, getting up from her desk and leaving the rest of them scattered on the couch and the floor.

JJ's pretty sure she's the only one who notices the way Derek flinches when Strauss squeezes his shoulder on her way by.

* * *

><p>Derek hopes to God that whatever Spencer needs, Strauss helps him out. At the same time, though, he thinks, "What's the point?" What's the point when crap still happens? When Carl gets checked out by CPS but can't get charged because there's no evidence that he did anything wrong. Even if there were, it would mean Derek would have to testify in court and that would mean Carl would kill him for sure.<p>

He feels selfish thinking so much about his own stuff when there is obviously something way worse happening in the world right now. He should be praying for _them_, not feeling betrayed by his best friend. Not thinking about how much he missed the son of a bitch that hurt him. His mom knows now and that just makes things awkward and so much more shameful. She doesn't blame him. She doesn't ask him weird questions about it. She just says she is here for him if he ever wants or needs to talk. And she insists that he see a shrink. Derek tries to fight her on that, but she won't budge. She says he needs to process things. He tells her he lived them already so why should he need to relive them over and over. And his sisters know, too. That's almost worse. When Sarah found out, she didn't even get mad, she just cried and said how sorry she was. He said it wasn't her fault, but Derek doesn't think she believed him. Desiree just sat there, real quiet, and then when they were done talking, she went to her room and he hasn't seen much of her since. Derek isn't sure what to make of it. He's sure he doesn't want to know. He wishes he'd never said a word in the first place.

Derek wonders what Carl would say if he could see him now…probably go on and on about how weak he is. How he thought he raised Derek better than this… It all messes Derek up inside. He doesn't know who he is now. He doesn't have Carl. He doesn't have football, or college or anything without the letter of recommendation Carl promised to write. Plus, now, he has no way to fill his days. He's so bored. He's failing everything because it all seems pointless.

All he wanted was for it to stop. And now all Derek wants is for it to go back to the way it was before.

* * *

><p>Aaron sits motionless in front of Emily's television set. He got the call from JJ on his cell phone, but said he was staying here. He doesn't see the point of congregating in Straus's office when this is the place he wants to be. The only thing that makes him feel slightly odd is having Sean here to witness this, too.<p>

Sarah did a great job with him while Aaron was away. He rarely worried or wondered about what Sean was doing, because he had full confidence in her. Just as he hoped, Sean was full of stories of the fun things he did with Derek's family. Going to the park. Baking cookies. Reading books as many times as Sean wanted. It is exactly the kind of life Aaron hoped Sean could experience, and is grateful that he had the chance, if only for a week. Now, things are back to what they were previously. Waking early and taking Sean with him to school. Dropping him off with Emily or Sarah afterward so he can avoid their father's anger. Aaron only has a few more weeks to deal with it anyway. Then, he'll be off at college, but constantly worrying about the kind of life his brother has. He finds himself praying his father's health declines before then, so Sean can have the chance Aaron never did. The chance to grow up safe and happy.

He has no other choice, of course. It's either keep him here with them and the television, or let him roam the house and damage the millions of breakable items in Emily's bedroom. She claims she wouldn't mind if Sean explored, but Aaron isn't taking any chances. He holds Sean tightly in his lap, as much to keep him from destroying things as to keep him safe from all the horrors in this world…

Penelope has not stopped crying since they first turned the news on. Emily seems like she still can't quite believe what she is seeing. Like she can't understand the words that are being spoken. Aaron just stares. He is well aware of the awful things people are capable of doing to each other.

"Hey? You sad?" Sean asks, reaching over and touching the tears on Penelope's face.

This, it seems, breaks Penelope down even further, and Emily moves to put an arm around her.

"Why?" Sean insists, confusion all over his face. In his eyes.

"Because…" Aaron clears his throat. "Some people were very naughty and it makes us sad when people are naughty."

The explanation seems insufficient at every level but how is he supposed to explain a national tragedy to a child who isn't even three years old yet? Still, Sean seems to understand, to the extent that he can. He turns in Aaron's lap, and studies him for a second before speaking.

"Like Daddy's naughty?" Sean asks, a deep sadness in his eyes. "Like that?"

"Yes," Aaron concedes, holding him a little tighter. "Kind of like that."

* * *

><p>Penelope cannot stop crying. This is the most terrible thing she has seen since September 30th. She doesn't know if she can deal with this. She has begged Emily to turn it off, but so far she is refusing.<p>

Seeing what she's seeing brings back all the terrible memories from the fall. That aching loneliness. That deep sadness. The grief that might, in fact, swallow her whole, if Penelope lets it.

Why are people like this to each other? Why on earth should a two-year-old - _a baby_ - have a concrete reference for what violence can do to people? It isn't fair!

"I've gotta go…" Penelope says, her voice thick.

She retreats to the guest room that she has pretty much lived in for the past several months. She pulls back the comforter and gets in bed. She covers herself up and stays there in the darkness.

It's like her heart is breaking. It's like she's losing them all over again. She gropes in the darkness until she finds the phone on the bedside table. She dials the number trying to focus through blurry eyes.

"Hello. This is Erin," the voice on the other end answers. Penelope hasn't meant to call her, but she is hoping that the person she wants to get a hold is still around somewhere.

"Erin? It's Penelope."

"Hi, Penelope…" She cannot miss the wary tone in Strauss's voice. It's like she's hoping to God that the rest of them stay in one piece. That no one else has a crisis today. Penelope wonders who Erin's worried about. She hopes they are okay. She hopes Strauss sounds stressed because she is doing the right thing. "Can I do something for you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was wondering…is David there, by chance?" Penelope asks and holds her breath. If he isn't there, she doesn't know what she'll do.

But he is. His voice fills the connection. Warm and heavy with the same grief she is feeling. "Hey, Penelope," he says.

"Hey…" she replies. She's distracted for a second, trying to pull the piece of paper from her pocket. It's there, just as it has been for months. The note she left for them that she isn't sure they ever saw before they left.

"Uh…Derek and JJ are here…" he says, feeling a little funny about having a conversation with an audience.

"Can you put me on speaker?" she asks. "I just want to be with you guys…" When he does, she says hello to them and sends them each her love, separately. "Where are Spencer and Ashley?" she asks, realizing belatedly that they are missing people.

"Spencer came in here and said he needed to stay with Strauss…Ashley was with him," JJ passes along, sounding stuffy from crying, but also concerned.

"Are you making sure he does?" Penelope asks, sure, somehow that Strauss has left the vicinity. Penelope latches onto this. Something she can maybe help with, instead of feeling so totally helpless and useless and parentless.

"What?" JJ asks, confused.

"I _said_ make sure he does," Penelope insists. "We can't do anything about what else is happening right now, but we can do something for Spencer. If he asked for help, he needs it. That child doesn't arbitrarily ask for things he doesn't need."

"Got it," JJ says. Penelope can tell she likes having something to keep her busy in a crisis.

"Hey, Derek," she calls, knowing he is there, too, even though she hasn't heard a word from him. Penelope knows that just because he shared what was bothering him doesn't mean it stopped affecting him. She knows he has been sad and withdrawn. Even before today's news. "Hang in there, okay? And know we're all here if you need us… Same for you JJ…and David?"

She hears the click as he takes her off speaker phone. She is beyond grateful for his telepathic powers.

It takes her a minute to gather her thoughts, and when she does, only one thing matters. Being reassured of what she already knows.

"You were there?" she asks, needing to hear it in order to ground herself in the truth of her parents' last moments. To reassure herself again that they were not alone.

"Yes," he answers simply. Seriously.

The next words are out of her mouth as if her parents put them there. As if they are literally pulled out of her. "_That's _who you are, David."

She senses it's something he needs to hear. That he's not his old self anymore. That bully who wanted nothing more than to put others down so he would not be bullied. Penelope somehow just knows that this day is hard on David in a way that the rest cannot comprehend.

There is no answer, but Penelope's sure he is still listening.

"You guys take care of Spencer and Ashley, okay?" she asks.

"Yeah, Derek and JJ are on it," he says quietly. "I'll go whenever we hang up."

"Go now," Penelope urges. "I'm okay. I just…I just needed to hear…that I didn't imagine that last part…about someone being there for them…"

"It's real. I was there. And I would do it again."

* * *

><p>Emily is shocked, still, hours later. She doesn't know how this has happened. Sure, there have been occurrences of terrorism and violence in some of the places she lived with her parents, but she always had security, Of course, she knows that these things happen, but this, somehow, strikes a little deeper than anything else has. Maybe because it was perpetrated by one of their own.<p>

She and Aaron stay up late talking. It helps to organize her thoughts. To discuss it with someone else who feels similarly. They talk of this but not of their other secrets. He respects her, and she values that so much. When Sean falls asleep, Emily tucks him in her bed and puts pillows around him so he has less chance of rolling out. She reassures Aaron that he is more than welcome to take her bed with his brother. She will sleep on the couch. She is surprised when Aaron takes her up on it.

What she means, of course, is that she will sleep in the guest room with Penelope. They have been doing it for sometime now. Ever since they discovered how nice it was to fall asleep talking than it was to fall asleep listening to their own thoughts. Penelope is like the older sister Emily never had. She knows, too, that Penelope thinks the same of Emily.

She knocks softly on Penelope's door, hours later and finds her still awake, but looking a little better.

"Sorry. Was I interrupting?" Emily asks, out of habit.

"No. I was just praying." Penelope says, patting the bed beside her.

Taking the invitation, Emily joins her. "For the kids in Colorado?" Emily asks, certain she is right.

"Yes… For them and for us, too…" Penelope elaborates.

"Why us?" Emily asks, confused.

"Spencer's in some kind of trouble. I'm praying Strauss does the right thing by him…"

"Do you think she did the right thing by _you_?" It's out of Emily's mouth before she knows it. She hopes her brashness hasn't hurt things between them.

"No…not totally…but, Em…she's human. We're all human. The church is a great place, but a building can't save us. It's the God in each of us…or whatever we believe in…that has the power to do that. But sometimes people do come through for you…in ways you never expect…"

Emily stays silent, listening.

"David was there the night of my parents' accident. He stopped when he saw it. He stayed with them…" Penelope confides, fresh tears shining in her eyes.

Shocked, Emily is aware that her mouth has dropped open. She can't seem to close it.

"People disappoint each other every day. But they come through for each other, too. Don't forget that," Penelope says, wrapping her arms around Emily and hugging her, even though she knows it feels strange and wrong to her. Penelope insists that if she does it enough, Emily will get used to it.

"Why are you telling me this?" Emily asks, still reeling from the events of the day.

"Because there's always hope," she says gently. "There's always hope…and I don't want us to forget that."


	14. May 9, 1999

Especially on days like this, Aaron is glad that the two people he is closest to know a thing or two about how to throw a party. Sean is turning three today, and their father's health has taken another sudden downward turn. He is back in the hospital. Their mother is with him. It seems that neither one of them remember the significance of this date.

Sometimes, Aaron feels a twinge of regret for praying this would happen. He thinks often about the many discussions held at church regarding God's will, and whether or not it was automatic. Would his father have been readmitted to the hospital anyway? Had Aaron's prayers helped the situation along? Is it wrong that he is glad about this? He hopes that Sean will not have to grow up with such worries. If Aaron has his way, Sean will not have to. He has spoken at length to Derek's mother and sister's and to Derek, too, about the possibility of Sean moving in with them if his father is still dying by August. They all agreed - even Derek - who has not seemed well in a very long time - that Sean - and Aaron, if he chooses - would be welcome there for any length of time. Somehow, Aaron and Sean have found a family.

It's lucky, too, that Sean is so resilient. He doesn't seem affected by the fact that his parents have forgotten such an important date, or the upheaval and transition that his life is experiencing. He is busy helping Penelope stir cake mix. She has grand plans to somehow produce a Toy Story cake, since that remains Sean's favorite movie. Emily is hanging streamers and blowing up balloons. The only catch is that this time, they are at Penelope's house, not Emily's. Her parents have some kind of party of their own going on and Aaron is sure it doesn't involve toddlers.

Aaron has never been inside Penelope's house. He finds it empty and heavy with grief, but Penelope has done her best to brighten it up. She has opened the blinds and moved messes to other corners, to make adequate room for baking. Aaron can tell this is hard for her, but she is willing to do it because she loves them like family.

Presents materialize from nowhere and Aaron wonders where they came from. He suspects Emily is behind it, but isn't sure and has no way to confirm that's what really happened. All Aaron knows is that he is glad he wasn't responsible for shopping. He has no problem supplying money for whatever expenses Sean's birthday requires, but shopping is where he draws the line. It would be ridiculous. How would he know what size clothing to buy or how many presents would be classified as too many? This is why he is glad Emily apparently did not overlook that task.

"Is there a LaLa in that box?" Sean asks mischievously, pointing to package with particularly shiny wrapping.

"I don't know. Did you _want _a LaLa?" Aaron asks, feeling slightly nervous. Frankly, he finds the Teletubbies with their soft Muppet bodies and alien faces more than a little disturbing. But for some reason beyond Aaron's comprehension along with everything Toy Story, Sean loves LaLa the yellow Teletubby.

"Uh-huh! And guess what? When I grow big like you? I'm gonna go to college! 'Cause I have a backpack. See?" Sean shows Aaron the bag, decorated with - what else - Teletubbies.

"That sounds great," Aaron says, and lifts him up to carry him away from the presents.

It's too soon for that, Aaron can't help thinking. It's too soon for his baby brother to be talking seriously about future plans and college.

"Will you do me a favor?" Aaron asks rhetorically. "Today, just have a lot of fun, okay? As much as you can. Promise?"

"I promise," Sean says and giggles.

* * *

><p>It's hard for Penelope to be back here, but it had to happen sometime. And since Aaron can't have a party for Sean at <em>his<em> house, and Emily has Boringpalooza going on at _her _house, Penelope's had been the next logical place.

The house was waiting for her, just as she left it that night she climbed out the window to stay at Emily's for a while. She had no way, at the time, of knowing she would stay there for months. She just has not been able to come back. Not until right now.

She blames her parents, really. She knows they must be behind this somehow. Her dad, and his constant insistence that there didn't need to be a reason to throw a party, and telling everyone at each of here mother's birthdays that she was turning twenty-seven. Her mom, who always made her the best birthday cakes and kept an assortment of shapely pans for each occasion - dinosaurs and Care Bears and yes, even Buzz Lightyear from Toy Story. Penelope guesses she should feel lucky that her mom was always adding to her cake pan collection, and always kept her recipe box up to date. Penelope found the vanilla cake recipe with no trouble and when she was done crafting it - presto - into the pan it went.

Sean, it turns out, is a fabulous apprentice cake-baker. He taste-tests everything to make sure it's all up to standard. It doesn't take much time for Penelope to remember that three-year-olds are not the most patient creatures. And since Aaron, Emily and herself, are all in charge, they make all the fun executive decisions.

Of course, presents can be opened while the cake is still baking! She thinks that her parents would probably think this was very hip of her. If they were here.

She is reaching into the recipe box to put the vanilla cake recipe in its place when Penelope sees it. Shoved in the back corner of the cupboard. It was written heaven knows how long ago, but Penelope does not care.

Because on the paper, she reads the simple message. Four little words that change her life, and make her sure that they saw the note she left. And that make her sure that somehow, they are still here.

The paper reads simply: _We love you, too._

* * *

><p>"It was nice of you to do this for Sean…and Aaron, too…" Emily amends as she gathers paper plates and cups from the table. Penelope seems a little fragile today, but she is insisting she is fine. Emily won't push it. They have known each other long enough that Emily knows when Penelope needs to talk and when she is honestly okay.<p>

"Oh, it was my pleasure," Penelope returns grandly, trying to cover obvious emotion with a smile. "Sean's a sweet kid. Aaron, too. You think you two will ever…you know? Take things anywhere?" Penelope asks, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"Realistically? No," Emily says.

"Jeez, Em! Way to dash all of my romantic dreams for you!"

"What?" Emily asks, genuinely confused. "With all the traveling I've done, there's no way I could spend my time going to college on the east coast. I need to move around. I can't set down roots."

"How am I going to live vicariously through you if you don't do totally awesome things?" Penelope asks, seeming a little hurt.

"How about, you take a chance and live your life yourself? _You_ do totally awesome things? You _can_, you know," Emily tells her, serious.

"Maybe I will…" Penelope ventures, and Emily notices her folding a small crumpled paper and storing it in her pocket. A soft smile is on her lips.

* * *

><p>David finds it easier than he expects to abandon his gang of jerks. For a while, it was tough. For a while, he let their ribbing get to him. But when he overheard them talking in the locker room about violating a girl with so much casualness it made Dave's stomach turn…well…that made it easy.<p>

He may not be a man with many standards. Or very high ones, for that matter, but the ones Dave does have, he stands by. He was raised to never mistreat women, and so far, he never has. Now that he's beginning to develop a conscience about some of the things he's done, it's easy to see the error in his thinking. When he hears them talk about the girl, all Dave can think about are his friends. All he can think about are Penelope, Emily, JJ and Ashley. They are as close to sisters as Dave will ever get. And he knows that if anyone touches them, that person will have hell to pay. The same would hold true for the guys now, especially Derek and Spencer, because they're little. Derek won't admit it. He wants everybody to think he's tough, even while he's dying inside. It's obvious to Dave. He just knows things in a way he can't explain.

Today - Sunday, in church - he makes a promise. Since it's in church, it has to mean something. Dave has to keep it. He promises to do something with his life. If he can maintain his shaky grades and pass, he will do something worthwhile. He doesn't know what it is yet, but Dave knows that when the time is right, something will reveal itself. And, no matter what happens, as the oldest, he will make sure that they all stay in touch. It's what his mother and dad always say. It's what families do.

And, they're family, after all.

* * *

><p>Ashley has pretty much moved into Erin Strauss's house with Spencer. She is pretty sure that Erin hates it, but Ashley doesn't really care. Spencer needs somebody to talk to that isn't four years old like Erin's twin girls. Even though Strauss insists they sleep separate from each other, when the house is quiet, Ashley sneaks into the room where Spencer is sleeping from where she sleeps, on the couch.<p>

They stay up and talk for hours. He shares things he has never told anyone. The first signs he can remember of his mother's illness. How afraid he is that one day, he'll end up like her - losing his mind, believing that people are spying on him from all corners of the world. Finding crazy deeper meanings in newspaper articles and colors and casual remarks.

Ashley tries to tell him that he shouldn't worry, but he can't seem to stop. She knows this feeling well, too. How many times had people asked her, when her illness was active, why she didn't just eat? It wasn't as simple as that for her, and this definitely is not simple for Spencer.

On Sunday, they get up with the family and go to church. Before they are out the door, though, Spencer's attempt to make toast fills the kitchen with smoke and causes Erin to start freaking out when the fire alarm goes off.

Ashley knows, they aren't supposed to hear the stressed out whispers, back and forth between Erin and her husband. All about how they can't have Spencer here indefinitely. How it's a strain enough on the family to provide for two kids, let alone three.

That's when Ashley makes the decision. That day in church, she sneaks away to talk to Sarah Morgan.

Sarah took care of Sean for Aaron when he was on the mission trip to Chicago with them, so maybe she would be willing to let Spencer live with them, if her mom said it was okay, of course. So, Ashley brought it up. And Sarah didn't even pray about it _or _ask her mom (even though Ashley is sure that at twenty years old, Sarah probably doesn't need to ask her mom anything, technically.)

It's great news. Ashley can hardly keep it in. She tells Spencer right away.

* * *

><p>Spencer can't believe his luck. The Morgan's are just letting him live at their house? For another month and then after that until college starts? It's unbelievable, but a fortunate turn of events no doubt. There have been many nights since moving in with Erin that Spencer has overheard her mentioning to people about inconsequential things. How Spencer sometimes forgets to pick his towel up after himself. Or how he yelled at Elizabeth or Eleanor for breaking one of his knights when he had, quote, "left them lying around." What Erin failed to mention to her husband was that Spencer had left them out because they were in the midst of a duel and they were on the floor of the room where <em>he<em> was staying.

He doesn't think Erin has considered what an adjustment it has been for him to live with her. She says, "Make yourself at home," but he honestly does not know what that means. At home with his mother, Spencer is always on his guard. Even now, when she is hospitalized like this, he knows there are dangers. She could get really depressed and stay in bed all day just like at home. She could just get too melancholy and decide it's all not worth it anymore. When Spencer's home, he is walking on eggshells all the time. He never feels like he can breathe.

When he asks Erin, out of politeness, if he can get a drink of water, she laughs at him. He doesn't have any idea what's funny and then she says, "Well, you've been here for almost three weeks, of course you can." When she tucks him in at night, she doesn't read any of his favorite books. She doesn't even try. She reads R.L. Stine preteen ghost story garbage. Spencer can feel his brain cells dying when that happens.

There have been a lot of adjustments, living with Erin. In short, living with the Morgan's will be a great relief. He feels sure that Derek's mother will not only tell him to make himself at home, but explain the expression if he asks. That Sarah will give a valiant attempt to read some of his favorite literature - and do well - because she is a college student. That Desiree will understand his need for privacy. That Derek will tell him it's always okay to get a glass of water, and mean it.

* * *

><p>JJ has seen Rachel in church this morning. Somewhere in the month or so since being home, JJ has reconciled herself to calling Kaya by her new name. It feels strange, but it is who she is now. Rachel has been Rachel for way longer than she has been Kaya. She won't even turn if JJ calls her Kaya by mistake. At church, JJ keeps her distance. She does everything she can not to piss off the Millers and in turn, they don't seem to hate her guts.<p>

It's not perfect, but it's something.

Out of the corner of her eye, JJ spots Ashley going to talk to Derek's oldest sister about something. It looks important. So, JJ seeks out Derek to see what the deal is.

"Why's Ashley talking to Sarah?" JJ wonders.

"Why shouldn't she?" he answers testily.

Oh yeah. JJ's forgotten that in the absence of the Miller's attitude, she has been dealing with Derek's, pretty much twenty-four-seven. She gets it. Kind of. But at the same time, it doesn't feel fair to her.

"I just mean, it looks important. I wondered if you knew what was going on, that's all."

"Well, I don't," Derek answers firmly.

"Are you okay?" JJ presses, but he doesn't answer. Instead he walks away from her and toward his sister.

JJ sighs. Oh well. Rome wasn't built in a day. She'll just have to keep trying. Someday - JJ is sure - her best friend will come back to her. Until then, she'll just have to be patient.

She knows Derek is having a way hard time dealing with all the crap in his life since he confided in her. JJ knows he blames her for what ended up happening. For his family finding out. But JJ isn't sorry she did it. And she knows, one day, Derek won't be sorry either.

She goes to the vending machine and grabs some Cheetos. They are delicious.

* * *

><p>"So, Spencer can stay with us, right?" Derek asks. Even in his current state, he finds he can't ignore the needs of others.<p>

"Spencer, Sean…All your friends can stay if they want to," Sarah answers cheerfully. There is no way for her to know what it's like in his head right now.

It's like Derek's at the bottom of a deep hole and there is no way to climb out. It's like everything he ever believed to be true is a lie. It's like this.

He blames himself. Totally and completely. He's said it before but it's still true. He can't stop thinking about why he let it happen and about why he said anything. He questions everything about that time in his life. It's been a month and a half and it's still just crazy to think of. His family is trying. He knows they are. But it's not enough. He doesn't know what he needs but it's not this. But, really, he does know. Really, he wants to talk to Carl. To ask him why he did what he did. To get some kind of explanation or apology.

Derek is working on stuff like that with the shrink. Getting in touch with his feelings about what happened to him. It's hard and it's not something he's used to doing. He is told it's okay to be angry about what happened. Even to be sad about it, but Derek can't bring either of those feelings up. He is given a lot of control in the sessions, which he doesn't fully understand. So, one day, when he asks, it is explained to him. He's told that the reason he has so much control in the session is because he wasn't given control with Carl. He talks. He writes. He even paints. But he is still left with this terrible feeling that he is used. That he is damaged. That no one will ever want him. Colleges won't want him, that's for sure. Without Carl, he hasn't got anything. It's just like he said it would be, only worse.

"Derek," Sarah says, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah," he says, and tries to make an effort at setting the picnic table in the yard. Sarah's barbecuing. Since he is still not allowed to touch anything involving heat or fire, he is again relegated to setting the table.

"You need to talk?" she asks, surprising him.

Mostly, his family leaves him be. But in their efforts not to push, and not to be nosy, they have all but stopped talking to him about anything that matters. Mostly, it suits him.

"You were quiet in church," she prods gently.

"So?" he asks, but there is nothing behind the word. "What's the point anyway, Sarah? What's the point of church or school or football or anything? I'm not getting into heaven, I'm not going to graduate and I'm not going to college on a scholarship…"

"Holy hell…" Sarah says, breathless. She puts down the cover on the grill and walks over, taking a chair across from him. "Derek, who told you all this?" she asks, though it's clear she knows.

"Doesn't matter who told me," he answers sullenly. He doesn't think he can even work up an appetite for barbecued chicken.

"Like hell it doesn't matter," she says, her voice low and a little dangerous.

"_He_ did," Derek admits.

"That's right. Well, I don't know if you remember, but Daddy had this saying… He'd say, 'Sarah, consider the source.'" So now, I'm saying it to you. For God's sake, Derek, consider the source."

Even though he doesn't want to argue, he finds he can't help it. "It wasn't like that though! He was nice the rest of the time! He treated me like a son!"

Sarah's tone is sharp when she interrupts. "A father does _not_ treat his son the way that man treated you. Listen to me, and listen good. That man did what he did to you because he was a sick son-of-a-bitch. He was nice to you to gain your trust, Derek, so he could do those things to you. And _that _is not your fault, it's _his_."

"I never said no, though," Derek objects softly and immediately goes hot and cold all over. He never meant to say it. Never meant to admit it.

Sarah's eyes are full of tears as she takes one of Derek's hands and squeezes it.

He looks at her, shame in his eyes.

"You did what you had to do to survive." She tells him fiercely. "God forbid, if what happened to you happened to that sweet girl, JJ, would you blame her?" Sarah challenges softly.

"Oh, I blame her plenty…" Derek growls. "She's the reason I'm in this mess. If she had just kept her mouth shut like I asked then none of this would be happening! I was praying God would fix it! And I believe he would have if JJ hadn't gotten in the way!"

"Did you ever consider that God might have used JJ to answer those prayers?" Sarah asks, and her eyes are bright with tears. "Derek Morgan, JJ helped save your life. Don't blame her for betraying a confidence I bet she never gave in the first place."

Derek thinks about it. He remembers begging her not to tell. He's always remembered that. But for the first time, it strikes him that not once did JJ agree to keep that kind of silence. He nods, too embarrassed to admit outright that he is wrong.

"Now, would you blame JJ? If she was in the same situation as you, would you blame her?"

"No, but she's a girl-"

"No 'buts.' She's fifteen, just like you are. A minor just like you are. Got a good head on her shoulders just like you do. Survival isn't based on logic, it's all instinct. Your instinct told you it was safest not to say anything. Always trust that. You're a great kid, Derek. You've got a bright future ahead of you. Bright as it ever was. That hasn't changed because some asshole tried to demean and diminish you. You are no less today than you were when you were ten years old or five years old, or a newborn that I refused to share with Desiree, who thought you were her new doll to play with…" Sarah smiles ruefully.

There are tears in Derek's eyes. He ducks his head to hide them.

"What happened to you was a sin, absolutely. But it was _his_ sin, not yours. I believe God knows that. And you are absolutely going to graduate because mama's gonna keep after you until you bring those grades up. Des and I will help you. And there is no way that one lousy letter by a youth center coordinator has the power to make or break your future. Talk to the coach at the high school about trying out next year. There's still time. You always have a future. You always have hope. Don't lose that…"

All of what Sarah's saying sounds too good to be true. Like an illusion. He closes his eyes. He doesn't see when Sarah leans over and wraps her arms around him. It sends a jolt through him until she speaks, reassuring him that it's all right. She's here now. She loves him. His family and friends and everybody who really matters is here for him. He's not in this alone.

For the first time, Derek finds, he can't hold it in anymore. This time, he doesn't shed angry tears. Just hurt ones. He has to grieve this, Sarah says, because if he doesn't, he will never be able to move on. And she wants that for him. She wants him to have the world at his fingertips.

Derek can't speak past the lump in his throat. He just hangs onto his big sister like the lifeline she is.

Sarah holds him and lets the chicken burn.


	15. September 30, 2011

Two days ago, the Behavioral Analysis Unit of Quantico, Virginia returned from rural Oklahoma. They have been working a case in rural Oklahoma where women were robbed of one of their senses and then murdered. No case is ever routine, but this one has been tougher than most. Aside from the brutal nature of the crime, it was the sheer configuration of the team as it stands today that is mind-boggling.

Who would have thought that someday, they would all work together, just as Emily predicted? Not saving the world, as Penelope guessed, but it is close enough. With one of them gone, and two back from other forms of discharge - JJ was offered a job at the Pentagon and forced to take it by Strauss - who unfortunately - remains their boss. Emily, it turned out, had more of a hidden past than anyone could guess, and subsequently suffered a fatal run-in with international criminal, Ian Doyle. He's no longer in the picture. No longer a threat. But Emily's loss has left a gaping hole in all of them. They cannot function as a team if every person is not present and committed to the work. Emily had definitely been committed, but sacrificed her own life for the safety of those she loved - had always loved - just like family.

Ashley has been gone for four months now, working in another unit. Though she loves her team, she feels that her own space would be best. She makes time to see them, and still treads carefully around Penelope, years later. She has changed her last name from Beauchamp to Seaver - her mother's maiden name - in an effort to distance herself from him. She has struggled to conquer her own demons, but she has still managed to keep the upper hand. Her personal insight has even proven useful in a few cases when she joined the team last year. Profiling women with low self-esteem and emotional problems. Ashley has perspective that none of the rest of them possess. It helps. It's good that it helps. But, years later, it also hurts. It hurts, too, that she and Spencer lost touch for many years, and now are nowhere near as close as they were in high school. Ashley knows these things happen, but she wishes they would happen a little less.

JJ's still getting used to being on the field, in the middle of the action, not just in front of the cameras. It's hard to do what she does. To consciously deceive people, even if it is for their own good. JJ has been living with the consequences of that deceit for the last week. She wishes she could have had some other choice. But, for as long as she can remember, she has been the secret-keeper… She is juggling motherhood and this job. Three years ago, she gave birth to a perfect little boy, Henry William. He looks - for all the world - like JJ…and therefore…like Janet. He reminds JJ of Rachel Miller, who, today, is seventeen - the same age Janet was when she died. JJ sees Rachel occasionally and from a distance. She is growing up well. The Millers have been good to her. Though there is still a hole in JJ's heart in the specific shape and depth of her sister, she finds it helps to have Henry. To right perceived mistakes that her own parents may have made with Janet, in raising JJ's own child.

Hotch is also a father. He married Haley after all. The marriage didn't work. He knew it wouldn't. As hard as he tried, Hotch could not forget the first girl he honestly cared for. But if not for his marriage to Haley, Hotch wouldn't have Jack. He thinks often of his teenage years, spent raising Sean from a similar age. Today, Sean is an accomplished student, and looking forward to a career in culinary school. He grew up with the Morgan's after their father passed in June, just after Aaron's high school graduation. Hotch likes to think Emily and perhaps Penelope had a hand in his developing Sean's passion for cooking. When Haley was killed, it nearly destroyed him. When he lost Emily, it hurt even more deeply. There is something about a person's first real love…

Emily was presumed dead seven months ago, but turned up last week, as if nothing was amiss. She is full of apologies and regret, even now. She thinks of coming to the United States from Italy as a teenager, and finds such chilling parallels - such striking differences - that they nearly take her breath. In high school, she was mourning, but no one was allowed to know. Now, her friends all mourned her, but they did not know the truth: that she was alive. That she survived - barely. Her connection with JJ kept her sane. Knowing that somewhere in the States JJ was thinking of her. Nights were filled with covert Scrabble games. Messages built upon one another in single word utterances like an aphasic.

_Here._

_Yes._

_Sorry._

_Don't._

_Love._

_OK._

_Family._

_Someday._

Spencer cannot see beyond JJ's role in the betrayal in his confidence. It reminds him too much of being twelve and being lied to about his own life. Of being mistreated on purpose - for the fun of it - rather than because it is absolutely necessary. Things have not been easy for him. He has struggled with issues he never thought would afflict him. Addiction. At the time, he had wished fervently for Ashley to materialize, to help him through it. To tell him the very things he told her to get her through. He forgot them when it counted. By the time she was back, it was too little, too late. Now he has to deal with JJ and her copious lies. Forgiving is harder work than he assumes it will be. To let go of this wrong. To admit that it was not intentional is the hardest thing Spencer has ever had to do. It's not just the lie; it's the months of grief, and feeling emotionally manipulated that is hard to cope with. Still, they have been through worse. And if they had not been together though it, Spencer knows, they would not have survived.

Derek, too, is still reeling - but more quietly. He and Emily were partners in the field. He was the one who found her, impaled by a wooden stake and bleeding out in a warehouse. His was the last face she saw. The last person she spoke to, before disappearing. She had told Derek to let her go. And he had tried with all his might to keep her with him. He, for one, doesn't blame JJ. He completely understands the need for confidentiality and he respects her more than he can articulate. It has been years, and not once has she shared his secret. Even when he was arrested in connection with a death Carl was responsible for. He still thinks of Carl in darker moments. When he does, he calls Sarah to talk things over. He reminds himself that she knew what she was talking about. He had been able to get to college on his own abilities. He'd taken summer school after his sophomore year to make up missed class work and boost his grade point average. His junior year, he tried out for the football team and made it. He was a star player without Carl. His mother and sisters, and little Sean Hotchner came to every game. He went to college on a scholarship, and played his heart out until he was injured his knee on the field. But if not for that, he might have never found his way here; back to friends he made over a decade ago, and never really forgot.

And Penelope? Well, today, it's been thirteen years since her parents' accident, and she can see no better tribute to their lives and memory than to get together with lifelong friends. Ashley isn't with them, but she has sent flowers - yellow roses - with a card. "I'm so sorry for your loss and the part my family played in your pain. Thinking of you today and always, Ashley." Penelope brings them along when they all get together that evening, feeling certain they will brighten up an already luminous kitchen. In the subsequent years since high school, Penelope has poured herself into being the best she possibly could…hacking and other not-so-great decisions notwithstanding. She does her best to combat the depression that is with her like a constant companion with cheer and optimism. She looks at crime scene photos and they still shake her, but not as much as if she has to pull up the file on car fire. That is always the worst. She still does not like driving, but tonight, Emily drove, and it reminded Penelope of old times in high school. She almost burst out in some choir tunes, but Emily made her promise not to sing. Because she loves Emily, Penelope agrees to a ride without any serenading. Instead, she balances the roses on her lap carefully and makes sure they don't topple over.

Today, they are standing in Dave's kitchen, as he gives them a cooking lesson. Though he never went to culinary school, his passion for food has never lessened over the ensuing years. He joined the military after high school, seeing no other way to get himself on the right path in life. Dave always had needed things in the extreme in order for them to make an impact. He's been in the profiling business a little longer than all of them. He still feels like he knows more. That extra year he has on Penelope - and more, on the rest - means something. It means he's got wisdom. Tonight, he's sharing his wisdom in the kitchen, with everyone but Ashley, who couldn't make it. Her flowers it seems, though, could. They sit off to the side. Out of the way, but present enough to let Dave's guests know that she, too, is as welcome as they are.

"Sorry I'm late," Spencer apologizes, walking in just as Dave is in the midst of telling the rest of them about the timing, rhythm and artistry of cooking spaghetti carbonara. Dave tries not to comment on the extreme lateness, but finds he can't resist. He isn't used to an audience, and he isn't used to one that isn't prompt, especially when it comes to food. Still, he gives Spencer the benefit of the doubt. They've all had a hard year.

"Yeah, and this is why I cook alone," Dave returns, a little miffed but more likely thinking back to the first cooking lesson he ever gave. And to young Spencer, his very first willing student.

JJ turns a little, at the island in the kitchen. She meets Spencer's eye, a silent question. In Oklahoma, he had made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that he did not trust her. He asked if she would have allowed him to use drugs again, and he called her Jennifer, which not one of them has done since Ashley, when they were teenagers. The accusations hurt. His behavior, and the way he clearly wants to do something else to cope with his feelings and blame it on her hurts. But JJ knows this isn't her fault. Still, she waits, holding her breath.

His smile is all she needs to be assured that everything is okay. Spencer is still struggling, of course. He is still trying to make sense of everything that has happened over the past few months and her role in it, but for now, everything is okay. Spencer is willing to put it behind him. He seems better, and because of that, so is she.

"So, uh," Emily interjects, eagerly. "When _do _we get to drink the wine?" She has been looking forward to this, but hasn't dared try for it, since JJ experienced a sharp reprimand, moments before. Apparently, wine-consumption requires as much timing and rhythm as the rest. Emily can feel her scar pulling taut as she stands. She wonders if Penelope's feels the same in moments when she does not expect it.

Dave continues stirring the pasta intently. "Almost there," he says, and stops. "Okay." He rubs his hands together, anticipating this. Remembering quarantining all the boys in the parenting room at the church in Chicago and telling them sternly that they were there because they needed _parenting_. This isn't so different. "We start at the beginning. You eat what you cook. I'll supervise. And we're gonna do this…all together…just like a family…" his words are measured and pleasant. He is enjoying this. Enjoying having all of them standing in his kitchen. JJ cuts the moment short.

"Okay, now?" she asks, holding up her glass of wine readily.

"Now," he echoes, and toasts them all.

All around the room, glasses clink, as they look forward to spending days together, just as they did, years ago. They smile at each other, and swear silently that no matter what might happen, they will not lose each other again. They will hold tightly to one another, and bravely face whatever life has for them, knowing that they are never alone.


End file.
